Word On the Shelves

Word On the Shelves

            WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS MANY CORNY AND OFTEN CHEESY PUNS. SOME MAY CONSIDER THIS A BAD APPLE OF A STORY, ROTTEN TO THE CORE. IF YOU ARE ONE OF THESE PEOPLE, PLEASE TAKE YOUR BEEF SOMEWHERE ELSE.

            The following occurs at grocery store crime scene, where in it there was a recent massacre. This is what went on in the store amongst various food items within, the word on the shelves.

            That night the apples were feeling a little rotten in their cores and as was the custom, the undoubtedly disturbed individual, the offender, came to have a not so friendly chat with the apples. It is possible that the apples planted the first seeds.

            We are well aware that the corn remained all ears throughout the conversation, and that the potatoes were keenly watching, eyes wide open. Unfortunately, due to their vegetable state, they are unable to speak with us, instead a team was sent to discuss the matter with the ice cream, that attempt however did not get far since all the ice cream would do was scream. Each scream had a slightly different sound; from generic to German it was there. The German scream was Haagen-Dazs frequencies, meaning it was louder than most. Present at the crime scene, was Mason, the wide-mouthed jar. He insisted the heads were involved, though it was indistinguishable whether it was the cabbage or lettuce in question, and none of them were talking.

            There was mayhem in the dairy: the milk had curdled, most of the cream was turning sour, and even the soy had gone a little bitter. The eggs, assumed to be rotten, were put under forceful interrogation, they soon cracked under pressure. It was quite possible that the screaming ice cream may have contributed to the curdling of the milk. The cheese-strings got pulled for questioning. It was also a possibility that the cream was whipping something up. But the rampant chaos within the store didn’t end there.

            There was no sweetness in the candy aisle. The toffees had landed themselves in a sticky situation, it wasn’t long before they realised they had become one. It was assumed that the soft drinks had popped a few caps. The Snickers, for some reason, found the situation highly amusing. The Bounty bars had mysteriously vanished; perhaps that was the cause of the whole attack. The gum seemed a little chewed out.

            As the investigation continued, it was easy to see the killer was not a cereal killer, since the cereal was untouched. Furthermore, it was doubted that the killer was a serial killer, since the serial numbers remained unscathed.

            Later on, a recording was discovered in none other than, the produce section, where this whole plot had been ripening. The apples had gotten the attention of the romaine lettuce, who they believed to be keen thinkers, ready to plot some great strategy for battle.

           

            “Lettuce, plot something devious,” called out a group Macintosh apples, who were believed to be the smarter of the apples, with a faster at processing information than most. They had had mass success with their recent creation—the pPod (a portable audio device, which could hold as many songs as the peas were capable of remembering, the songs were similar to each pod)

            “The apples are to plant the seeds,” declared the lettuce, “and the celery is to stalk the killer throughout the store. Corn and potatoes be alert. No one let the pork squeal or saucy tales coming from the canned food aisle either, if word got out amongst the soup, this could create quite a stir.”

Each fruit and vegetable knew its role, though the cantaloupe was feeling a little blue, instead of the usual vibrant orange, since her honey, the ham, made for Black Forest with a Bratwurst sausage. The cherries had been in the pits, afraid they were going to be used as bombs. And the peaches, feeling moral even with hearts of stone, decided to call the fuzz. They tried to call using the bananas, but the bananas split, maybe that was also caused by the ice cream, but nonetheless, they split.

Still around the store, down by the demo counter, it was evident conspiracy had been cooking. The salad dressing was nowhere to be seen, they were after all masters of disguise. The Cheese Whizz, who had heavily processed the situation, felt he had an answer. Meanwhile, out in the parking lot the steak was T-boned. All along their was something fishy about the seafood counter where the prawns were feeling shrimpy.

            It was generally agreed that the molasses wasn’t to be interrogated since it was slower than usual that day. The ketchup was a little behind the times as well. It took some peeling and a whole lot of squeezing to get any juice out of the oranges. Some would argue that excessive pressure was used. The blood oranges obviously had something to hide. Turns out the proof was in the pudding all along. That landed the pudding in custardy, but after all this was only the word on the shelves.