Okay, I've had it. I've reached my limit with you. All of you. You are all a disappointment to me. Yes, I'm talking to you over there and there and there, too. I've given you lots of care the last few months; lots of water, high dollar food, plenty of support -- but it just hasn't been good enough for you. I've shared my nurturing goodness with you. I've included you in conversations. I've provide you attention when my own children have been left to run amok in the neighborhood. I just don't know what else to do for you. I'm at the end of my attention span. I can't provide you anymore love or dedication or money to support you. I'm cutting you off. No more water, no more electricity, no more rescuing you from that which pesters you.
You have all been a bunch of ungrateful, unproductive and underachieving... TOMATOES.
I brought you to my home from all different origins. A few of you were pricey and quite a few of you were, okay I'll admit it, cheap. But, I would have thought, with all the attention I gave you in the way of water and Alaska fish emulsion, you could have done SOMETHING more productive with your summer. The few of you that have even bothered to ripen have let yourselves go, with mushy and rotting bottoms and less than stellar character. You green ones are dotted with spots where you have been nibbled on by others. Really, what more did you want from me? What could I have done to benefit you? To nurture you? To encourage you? Some of you have even had music played for you and, still, that wasn't enough.
So, I give up. I concede. Go about, unimpeded, with your underachieving ways. I may have plans for a green salsa but, considering the lame production of your compatriots, the peppers, I may have to beg and plead elsewhere for enough ingredients for even one batch for the cupboard. I will tell you this, though; I'm done with you for this year. No more water, no more fish stink, and I may just give you an express ticket to the compost bin. Hasta la vista, baby!