Drabble: Braird

Rightly, this should be about zombies climbing out of graves or something. That'd be even better. Maybe I'll write that one later. But zombies don't really /sprout/, they grow, so I had to include a plant in the first one.

“That's not what bell peppers look like.” He meant it as a warning, but I heard an attack.

“My peppers are lovely,” I bit. 

“Your peppers are black. Are they rotten?” 

“Rotten! They're delicious.” He looked at the plant dubiously. “Taste it,” I insisted, picking a particularly dark pepper. “It's safe.” 

Hesitantly, he took a bite. His suspicion melted away, but nothing replaced it. “Oh,” he said. “Can I have another?” 

He'd be back to criticism all too soon. But in the meantime... 

“Water,” I said. 

He picked up the hose.