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The Rotten Apple of Despair
In the middle of a dying field laid the remains of a fallen apple tree. Beside it sat a single apple which was shriveled, brown, and decomposing. Covered in larvae and dirt, it waited to become one with the earth as all dying things do. This particular apple emitted a horrific stench that resembled something similar to the carcass of a dead skunk. Hundreds of feet away, the nostrils of a starving fox were aroused by the foul stench of the rotting apple. Out of sheer curiosity and a yearning for nutrients, the fox approached the apple. As it drew closer and closer, the fox began to contemplate what such a horrendous creation would taste like. The apple remained stationary, waiting to finally meet its sweet end, for the months of suffering the merciless infestation of the worms was unbearable to such an elegant fruit. Inside of the holes created by the larvae and worms, there grew a black mold, which had infested the entire hollow inner cavity of the apple. The fox had arrived upon its destination and instantly devoured the abomination that lie in the dirt. The mushy textures of the bodies of crawling larvae and of decomposed apple flesh as they were mutilated by the teeth of the fox created a noise; the same noise that one’s feet make while sloshing through a pit of mud. The same noise that a squished lemon makes as the juices are drained from its insides. The fox immediately threw up a revolting mush of brown, black, and red, and the acidic remnants of the chewed apple slowly began to saturate the soil beneath it. The apple was no longer an apple, but rather a concoction of stomach acids and dead larvae.
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I hate apples