fruity flouse cracchouse

fruit

"Psst."

You don't often hear someone whisper such an odd word on the street on your way to the fast food shop. 

You turn around, ready to face whatever weird spirit had the audacity to call out to you at this time of day. You meet eyes with a young girl, looking no older than fifteen years, with her wispy brown hair tied messily by the side of her head with a sparkly scrunchie. The scrunchie appeared to have stars made of the moon itself scattered all about it; they shimmered and sparkled with life the longer you stared at it. Her eyes were the colour of violets, and they glinted with a seemingly sinister look. Her lips were curled into a smirk. To top it all off, in her hands sat a box.

"Yeah?" you inquire. "What do you want from me?"

The girl reaches into the box, pulling out an apple as red as a rose. "You want some fruit?"

You blinked. Fruit? Couldn't the madwoman see you were heading for the fast food shop? "No. I do not want your fruit. Leave me alone, please." 

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Ah, but fruit is good for you," she swiftly replied, the inexplicably creepy smile never leaving her face. "Wouldn't you rather have a nice, yummy, polished apple from the Fruity Flouse Funhouse?"

"Fruity... Flouse? The heck is a flouse?"

The girl shrugs. "I wouldn't know. I made it up as a word beginning with F that rhymes with mouse."

You roll your eyes. This sparkly fruit-crazed woman was not going to leave no matter what you said to her. "Wouldn't you think of a meaning before making the word?"

"Why, of course not!" The girl chuckles, sending a rush of annoyance up your spine. "Authors always edit after they blurt everything out onto the page... or maybe even the laptop or computer or whatever, I wouldn't care. I'm only concerned about business, for business is what I am concerned about!"

"That makes no sense."

"It ain't meant to, honey. Anyway, you're either going to take my fruit or leave my fruit. Either way, you're getting a fruit before you get home today."

You swiftly turn away from the fruit woman. "I'm leaving your fruit. And if anyone gives me a fruit from this moment on, I will refuse it."

You hear the apple drop back into the box. "Yeah, alrighty then," the girl replies. "What are you getting from that place you're off to, anyway? An apple pie?"

"No, not anymore-"

"A-ha!" The girl exclaims, sounding quite triumphant. "You were going to get an apple! See? See? You were going to get fruit, one way or another! Hahaha! The Fruity Flouse has struck once again!"

You groan, stomping away. This child - Lychie, she had called herself - had taken up too much of your time already. "Fine. I will get that apple pie, if you insist."

Behind you sparks a short "Yes!", presumably from the girl. "It's a pleasure to make business with youuuuuuu!!" are the last words you ever hear from her as you finally make your way down to the fast food you've been craving for the past minute.

alright what the wumble did i just write

(edit 26/07/21 - formatting)