A Diabolically Tasty Fig

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 As Logged By:

 

Agent Rose

 

Mommy has a new obsession

With some figs in her possession.

"Mine, mine, mine!"  She screams

So much that I have bad dreams!

 

I've got to get rid of them

Till there's only an empty stem!

 Should I let them go to waste?

Or should I have a taste? 

 

"Don't touch them!!!!!!"
 
Daddy jumps way back as Mommy runs toward the potted plants, ready to kill.  "I was only checking to see if they were ready," he explains.
 
But Mommy doesn't seem to believe him.  Her eyes start to squint and her lips twitch.  It's such a change that even I stop playing with my toy microwave.
 
What is going on here?  What can be so precious as to turn Mommy into such a frightening creature?
 
"Don't touch my figs," she warns between clenched teeth.  "I've been babying them all year and, now, they're finally ripening."
 
That much is true.  That crazy Mommy has been babying these potted plants more than she's been babying me.  She talks to them as she waters, she checks the temperatures at night to make sure they're comfy, one time I even saw her get into a raccoon fight.
 
That poor little creature was just checking out the fallen pawpaws, then it got within two feet of one of the potted figs.  Mommy came running out, screeching louder than the raccoon.  
 
"Don't touch my figs!!!!!"  She bellowed and that raccoon took off and hasn't come back.
 
Now, she's staring at Daddy with the same look that she gave that raccoon.  "Don't touch my figs!"  She hisses.  "They're mine, mine... MINE!"
 
She laughs a bit too madly and smiles too wildly.
 
Oh, geez.
 
Now I know that I won't sleep tonight.  I'll toss and turn in between of nightmares where Mommy's eyes are whirling and she's foaming at the mouth.  Somewhere there will be figs and she'll be salivating over them.
 
That's it!
 
This diabolical sweetie has to do something to stop this mommy.
 
I wait for them to head back into the house.  Mommy glances at the figs, just to make sure they are safe, then follows Daddy inside.
 
Now is my chance!
 
I slip out my long handled grabber and crawl on over to those three potted figs.
 
The little fruits dangle like green and brown ornaments.  A few have some droplets seeping out of the bottom.
 
Yuck.
 
Sorry, but this is the only way to get Mommy back to being sane. 
 
I reach my grabber way up high.
 
BOP!
 
I knock one down and, then, another.
 
BOP!  BOP!  BOP!
 
There goes a fig rolling down the patio.  One falls into the lawn and one right next to me.
 
Hmm...
 
What is it about these tiny fruits that has turned Mommy into a stewed newt?  Should I taste one?  What if it gives me gas?
 
Oh, well.
 
I've already got plenty of that.
 
I grab the tiny thing and take a nibble.
 
Num num...
 
MMM!!!!!!
 
Num num NUM!
 
I want another!  Give me those figs.  Where's my grabber?  I need to knock them all down...
 
And keep them for me!
 
BOP!  BOP!  BOP!  BOP!!!!!!
 
Num num NUM!
 
"What!?"  Mommy screeches when she steps back outside.  "Where did all of the figs go?"
 
PPPHHHHHHRRRRRRRTTTTTTHHHHHHHPPPPPPPPTTTTT!
 
I have an idea, Mommy.
 
 
Upcoming log:  The Diabolically Big 4-0
 
Previous log:  A Diabolical Fever 

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