Yes, eat my flesh. Please. Disperse my seeds to fertile lands so my genes may flourish.
What! You aren’t swallowing my core? What of my seeds, my plan? You cheat! My enticement, my expenditure of energy, has been for naught. Unless of course, you love the flesh of my vegetative wombs so much, you become a Johnny Appleseed. Then, by all means . . .
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Tags: biology
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