Wednesday 17 July 2013

Eve's Apples

Bruce Roush
Eve's Apples

"Eve, what are those?" asked Adam as he stared at the bright red fruit on the table, his brow furrowed.
     Slightly flustered, Eve answered "Those? Oh those are Adams apple … I mean apples, Adam. Serpent has been teaching me how to juggle three of them at once."
     Adam shot an incredulous look at Eve. She was the prettiest flower in Eden, but not the brightest. "Eve, Serpent has no hands, or for that matter, no arms or legs either. HOW does he juggle?”
     "He can do some very creative things with his tail," she answered, her cheeks suddenly reddening, "and he knows so much about them. You know, like their antioxidant, anti-inflammatory qualities and the anthocyanins that make the skin red and …"
     Adam held up his hand. "Stop! You know what the Big Guy told us about apples. Get rid of them, please. I've got to get back to the privet hedge topiaries. It's nice to be given Paradise on a plate with watercress round it, but you'd think it would come with a gardener or two. When I come back for dinner, make sure those apples are gone!"
     Eve thought and thought some more. She hated to waste anything. Finally, she knew what she would do. She would use those apples in that nice tarte Tatin recipe Serpent had so thoughtfully given her.

About the Author
Bruce Roush is a 24/7 caregiver to my wife of forty-eight years. Writing Flash Fiction is his brief escape from life's realities.

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