“Take off your gunns!” Screamed Mrs. Darcy as she waltzed across the levy. “Do you not know your limits? The pan is off the hob and you probably haven’t even washed your hands yet!”
She was correct. I hadn’t washed my hands, however, I had almost overpowered a whole lemon. All by myself! I thought it had called for some pretty big chat, but Mrs. Darcy did not seem to think so.
I was overcome.
Had she beaten me?
Not yet.
I had one trick left up my sleeve.
One night late in early march I snuck inside her and hid my seed deep in the recess. Soon after she began to feel ill every morning. My plan had worked! She was certainly in a pickle now.
By October a whole marrow grew out of her elbow.
I was victorious at last.
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