It was a Tuesday morning just gone 1130.
Sandra was at home and feeling nervous. She hadn’t eaten since the night before and her tummy rumbled like a train through an empty tunnel. She winced. ‘Why won’t that avocado by the fridge stop looking at me’. It had been like this all morning. There was a bowl 7 feet away of juicy, ripe avocados looking for trouble. A gang. Several minutes past before Sandra couldn’t take it any more, she wanted smashed avocado.
‘RIGGGHHTT!’ she shouted at the avocados, ‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’ Suddenly, she slammed her fist on her desk and leapt to her feet storming towards the avocado as if her feet hadn’t touched the ground. She was starving. She grabbed it by the throat and slammed it on the kitchen counter. She pulled a knife from the drawer.
Then, whilst holding it down, she thought about how she would punish it.
Aha, a gleam in her eye.
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