Rotten Tomatoes

Rotten Tomatoes

"Those are really amazing tomatoes, Mr. Cetes. They’re so plump and look really juicy!"

"Thank you, Cynthia. How are yours doing? I can’t see them from here," he said, leaning over the fence in her pink bikini.

"Yeah, I know—they’re small. I just don’t know how you do it. I use the same Miracle-Gro that you do. What’s your secret?"

"I’ll never tell," Dad says with a wink.

"Oh, you stinker. Why don’t you let me borrow some of your potting soil? Maybe that’ll help."

"Sure, Cynthia. No problem. Good luck," Dad says, handing her a bag.

But as we walk away through the backyard, he whispers to me,
"It’s not gonna do any good. Her soil’s too sandy and rocky."

"Hey Dad, you wanna play a prank on her?"

"What do you have in mind, son?"

"Here, I’ll show you."

The next day, my dad and I stake out the backyard. With our lawn chairs, we sit and wait. It doesn’t take long.

Cynthia comes out and scans her yard.

When she sees them, she exclaims,
"Oh—how’d that happen?"

Bouncing excitedly, she rushes to inspect the tomatoes that have “grown” overnight. But as she plucks one, she screeches,
"Oh, that rat bastard!"

She looks around, scowling.
"Where is he?"

We’re in stitches, doubled over, laughing hysterically.

She bounces over towards us and hurls two of them in our direction.
"Oh, you!" she yells, laughing. "You two are just rotten!"

"Oh, come on, Cynthia. You can take a joke, can’t you?"

"You’re right. I have to admit—tying your tomatoes to my vine with twist ties was pretty clever and cute."

"Well, I’m glad you see it that way," dad says, winking at me.

"Hey Cynthia, why don’t you try that on Jenny? Hers are just as puny as yours."

She giggles, her eyes sparkling.