The Apple Core

She had chosen me! From the whole bushel of shiny green produce; what rapture I felt. And as she wrapped her long slender fingers around my flesh, I felt that my body was a suitable sacrifice. She lifted me to her lips.
The pain was excruciating.
Her sharp fangs ripped, tore.
Then it was over.  My core exposed.
I waited patiently for the declaration.
“That apple looked nice Samantha"
“Mmm, yeah.....I've had better"
She stood up and walked over to the bin in the corner of the classroom, and threw away the core of her Granny Smith apple.

Despair.
It overwhelmed me. Lying face down in a pool of yoghurt, I pleaded with Mother Earth to let me drown. But alas, I remained, only to hear the spiteful allegations of my former lover.
“I actually think I prefer Braeburns. They are more crisp”
“Granny Smiths are only good for baking”
“Maybe I’ll have a Banana when I get home”
Then, revelation.
Devious Delilah, how you deceived me!
I thought our union was pure.
Discarded like a common piece of peel.
Revenge swelled in my pips. The solution became evident.

I impaled myself on a toothpick and sears of pain shot through my damaged torso.
I waited for my chance to escape.
An eternity passed.
I grew dull and brown.
Then, when hope felt lost, the right opportunity was presented.

As the cleaner lifted the bin, I rolled out.
I hit the floor with such a thud that I felt certain I would be discovered.
Quickly, I flagellated behind the book shelf with my stalk.
Although cramped the recess would be sufficient until morning.

In my head, I replayed our time together.
The first meeting at the kitchen counter.
Her potent strawberry lip gloss.
The way she, lovingly shined my supple skin.
A touch so firm and determined.

My body was deteriorating fast. Thick oozing slime replaced what had been in my youth hard and firm. The end was drawing ever near.
At first light I used my last strength to propel forward toward her desk.
The agony was tremendous. I felt the remains of my disgorged innards leave a trail of incriminating evidence across the smooth lino.
I retired at the foot of her chair.
To wait.

“BRINNNNNNNG” went the school bell.
The girls filed in equally as loud.
Samantha took out her books and pen and laid them on the desk. She sat down on her hard wooden chair and looked up at the white board to start the daily lesson.
Moving her foot, a wet, slimy substance seeped into her sandal.
“Ewww, who left this rotten core by my desk!?”
“Miss, someone must have put it there, it’s got a toothpick in it!”

And the uprising of the apple cores goes unnoticed by their oppressors.
Explains all those apple cores lying around the place, doesn’t it?