CREATURES FROM THE LAGOON

INVADED MY FRIDGE...


And ate my kiwi fruit!


That can only mean one thing!




THEY'RE FRIENDLY!


- because they did me a favour by eating up a fruit that I bought more for fad than food.

This fruit should be stopped with an interdiction strike right at the vine or tree or swamp that this stuff grows on or in.

As far as coping with the skin to get at the fruit, my line is drawn with peach fuzz. Peach fuzz and nothing more. But fuzz and wrinkles and bumps? Sorry. Doesn't grab me.

Somebody come up with a slick supple seedless smooth no-fuzz-no-bumps kiwi and I'M THERE MAN! If only because I at least like the colour. But as for all of the other kiwi attributes? No thanks. Pass. I'm not that hard up for dietary fiber that I need to consider eating something so visually unappealing as a kiwi only to have to excuse myself pre-maturely from some soiree, finding it at last too socially precarious to balance the act of keeping my little finger straightout from my glass of bubbly whilst deftly managing some kiwi-induced discomfort rumbling ominously behind a rogue sphincter.


Each to his own, but how can anything that looks so bad be of any good?
It's all a facade.
I swear it's all about looking hip.


You are what you eat.

Doubt that?

Where do you suppose all those wrinkled hairy warty faces of old people come from?

So go easy on the kiwi... and pickles... And peel your peaches.

There can be a life without warts and peach fuzz.


Face it now or face it later.

Wait a minute...

That can't be my fridge.

There's no Uke Juice!





Get the truth on the fridge critters.