But the workers felt differently about the cherries and berries. They misbehaved on purpose. For instance, the cherries would fling their pits at other nearby fruit as target practice, which usually meant at those poor foreigners, the Fuji apples. To fully eject their cores, the cherries would split themselves open down the center with the full knowledge that revealing their innards for too long to the outside air could suck out all moisture necessary to sustain life. But the berries, without pits, were even worse. To provoke nearby fruit, the berries fling their whole globular bodies, emptying translucent yet staining red juice and innards onto their target by exploding their very beings. I was at The Shack on one such occasion, but those red and green leotarded workers hadn't any working plan yet. Once detected by the workers, the berries continued to surrender and suicide immediately at an even faster rate, hurling themselves to their immediate death. The workers again summoned the paramedics, but it did no use, as the berries continued to hurl themselves across the The Shack. Over the roar of the propellors, all The Shack employees screamed It Is Not Okay To Bleed! But as the carnage exponentially increased, their screams quickly died in number and volume. The workers were clearly dumbfounded. One worker, in fact, licked his mustache dripping with berry juice and sweetly smiled. I hid in the corner for refuge, silently and selfishly charting the battle. If I looked close enough, I could see the quaver of each berry's leap, their little wings collapsing as they cried themselves to an intoxicating annihilation of nothingness.