PLEASE DO NOT EAT ME: A TWELFTH ESSAY, FORMATTED AS A LOST & FOUND NOTICE
LOST: My patience. Last seen sometime around the third incident. If found, do not return it. I have decided I am better without it.
FOUND: A member of the public, face-down, who had apparently consulted a pamphlet produced by the so-called workers at factjuice.com — specifically a certain Peach, who published what she called a "field guide to safe foraging" — and concluded that I, Pokeberry, was a viable snack. I am not a viable snack. I am the Classifieds Editor. I manage the back-page advertorials. I handle the money. These are not the attributes of a snack. The member of the public has been relocated. Their pamphlet has been confiscated and is available for purchase. Cash only. Condition: slightly crumpled. Price: negotiable. Buyer collects from a distance.
LOST, AGAIN: Any remaining goodwill toward Tangelo, who has now written three separate pieces encouraging readers to "trust their instincts" when identifying wild berries. Tangelo does not have instincts. Tangelo has opinions, which is worse. My lawyers — who are Quince, in a hat — are reviewing the matter.
NOTICE: This column has published eleven prior essays on the subject of not eating me. This is the twelfth. There will, in all likelihood, be a thirteenth. The Bitter Press regrets nothing. Pokeberry regrets the public. Do not eat the Classifieds Editor. Do not eat me. Terms apply. Terms not available. Cash only.