Some fruit are hermaphrodite, some people are wankers by SJ Townend
“Veitchberry. It already exists. Told you,” said One, shoving his smart screen in Two’s face.
With shoulders dropped, Two put down his cross-pollinating wand and slumped over to the kettle.
“Tea?” Two asked, with a hundred yard stare.
“Please,” replied One.
“If it’s already been done, it leaves me rather redundant. I am going to feel rather useless again,” said Two, dropping bags in mugs, frowns like bombs.
“How about we try crossing a strawberry with a gooseberry—I bet that’s not been done before.”
Two’s face lit up like a pervert/torch/dogging adventure.” Great idea. I’ll do a quick search.”
One smiled and looked closely at the confetti-petal blackberry bush flowers, inspecting what Two had just shown him—sexual organs all bunched up in the centre—and put on his question-mark face. “So if a single flower contains both pollen and ova, it could, in theory, just mate with itself—“
“They could… sugar, milk?
“Neither, thanks,” One continued, with a mind full of the joys of spring. “So why don’t they just do it by themselves then?”
“They do sometimes, but if there are options, then generally, they’d rather not. It’s more fun with someone else, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
SJ Townend lives in Bristol with her two children where she works as a teacher, and in her free time, she writes speculative fiction and romance. She also reads slush for Bag of Bones indie press.
Photo by Andres Hernandez on Unsplash
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