"You just have to develop a healthy give and take relationship with people," philosophically remarked a young Lemon Tree growing in a pot by the window.
"Yeah, we give and they take," said Yolka and laughed with a very evil laugh.
"You should be happy to sacrifice your life for the greater good," said the Lemon Tree.
"What are you sacrificing over there, squirt?" asked Yolka.
"The lemons."
"I don't see any lemons on you."
"I'm too young to have them. But I will some day."
"You're delusional!" snorted Yolka. "You can't have limoni all by yourself. You need other lemon trees and the bees to pollinate your zvjeti."
"Ah! How dare you!"
"What? Can't face reality? Polli-nate, pol-li-nate, po-lli-nate..." teased Yolka.
"Stop it!" begged the Lemon Tree.
"Chto takoye pollinate?" I asked.
"There are bugs called pchyoli, they are fluffy, yellow and black, cute, but not good to eat, because they bite," explained Murka, since no one else spoke up. "They fly from one zvjetok to another, go inside and mix pilzu."
"Ah," exclaimed the Lemon Tree, "mind the ladies' ears!"
"You don't have ears," said Murka.
"It's an expression."
"So what happens after pchyoli mix pilzu?" I asked impatiently.
"Some zvjeti grow into frukti, and some frukti are good to eat. But, frankly, I can't imagine who'd want to eat limoni; they are horribly sour."
"Lyudi like limoni in their chai," said the Lemon Tree.
"Hey, we don't have any fruit, and lyudi still keep us and take care of us!" said one of the cacti from the windowsill.
"Yeah," said another cactus, "They appreciate true beauty!"
"Are you calling yourself beautiful?" Yolka snorted with derision. "You ugly, useless, prickly weeds!"
"With a nasty attitude like yours you should be chopped up for the stove!" barked a fat round cactus.
"I second that," said a tall cactus.
"I third that," said the Lemon Tree.
"You can't third something, you can only second it, you dumb bell," said Yolka.
"Nonsense! You can third it, and forth it, and fifth it!"
"Grrrr," growled Yolka. "I think I will welcome my demise."
"Yeah, we give and they take," said Yolka and laughed with a very evil laugh.
"You should be happy to sacrifice your life for the greater good," said the Lemon Tree.
"What are you sacrificing over there, squirt?" asked Yolka.
"The lemons."
"I don't see any lemons on you."
"I'm too young to have them. But I will some day."
"You're delusional!" snorted Yolka. "You can't have limoni all by yourself. You need other lemon trees and the bees to pollinate your zvjeti."
"Ah! How dare you!"
"What? Can't face reality? Polli-nate, pol-li-nate, po-lli-nate..." teased Yolka.
"Stop it!" begged the Lemon Tree.
"Chto takoye pollinate?" I asked.
"There are bugs called pchyoli, they are fluffy, yellow and black, cute, but not good to eat, because they bite," explained Murka, since no one else spoke up. "They fly from one zvjetok to another, go inside and mix pilzu."
"Ah," exclaimed the Lemon Tree, "mind the ladies' ears!"
"You don't have ears," said Murka.
"It's an expression."
"So what happens after pchyoli mix pilzu?" I asked impatiently.
"Some zvjeti grow into frukti, and some frukti are good to eat. But, frankly, I can't imagine who'd want to eat limoni; they are horribly sour."
"Lyudi like limoni in their chai," said the Lemon Tree.
"Hey, we don't have any fruit, and lyudi still keep us and take care of us!" said one of the cacti from the windowsill.
"Yeah," said another cactus, "They appreciate true beauty!"
"Are you calling yourself beautiful?" Yolka snorted with derision. "You ugly, useless, prickly weeds!"
"With a nasty attitude like yours you should be chopped up for the stove!" barked a fat round cactus.
"I second that," said a tall cactus.
"I third that," said the Lemon Tree.
"You can't third something, you can only second it, you dumb bell," said Yolka.
"Nonsense! You can third it, and forth it, and fifth it!"
"Grrrr," growled Yolka. "I think I will welcome my demise."
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