It pops up in all the right placesMature

Nothing really

Imagine: a quiet serene meadow, the setting sun overhead;
bathing the long grass in a golden light, a beautiful, old-fashioned,
red-checked picnic blanket, a gorgeous evening no doubt. You reach inside the
basket and pull out your dinner, freshly picked berries, home-grown, crisp
lettuce, tossed delicately into a perfect salad, a delicious tender, savoury
steak, seasoned with the spices from that spice garden you’ve been keeping up
all this time, and to drink? A nice cool, bubbly refreshing Jones Soda, Root
beer in fact, you twist open the cap, eager to take a sip and read the fortune
under the lid. While holding your breath you squint one eye and look into the
cap for your guru words of wisdom and behold your profound message: “Fuck You.”
Evening ruined.

The End

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