Figgers

Figs (look, there they are)

It’s that time of year again, fig season. Once a fine delicacy to be enjoyed with fine wines and cheese, now available the world over to people from all walks of life. But figs need a little nudge from nature to become as ripe and tasty as we see them in the supermarkets. They certainly wouldn’t be as delicious if not for the self sacrifice of natures biggest cunts. Up until recently many believed that they had no purpose at all other than to spread misery and despair, yes vloggers certainly are insufferable arsewanks. Superstar vlogger, social experimenter, lifestyle guru, Big Brother contestant, prankster extraordinaire … there are many ways to describe Sam Pepper, but for this purpose we’ll simply call him a ripist.

Whilst aimlessly wandering around Sam comes across what he thinks is a cool shabby chic abandoned warehouse or car or something, In actual fact, what sam has found is fig. Once he has located an opening, known as the Ostiole, Sam desperately attempt to clamber through to get some ace shots and be badass, losing his hat and shoes along the way.

Fig Anatomy

Once inside a female fig, Sam will get stuck in a long tube called the stylist. Much like a flower figs require pollination to propagate. However, the reproductive elements are tucked away inside. After days of desperately trying to crawl back out of the hole he entered whilst most likely vlogging the whole process with some kind of awful yet appropriate hashtag Sam realises his fate, whips it out and just goes nuts spilling his twisted seed all over the place.

“waaaahh, I don’t want to die….” (whatever)

Sam dies alone, constricted, starved and with nothing more than the faint glow of the recording screen. An enzyme called ficin breaks down Sam’s disgusting lifeless corpse. But what’s this? New life emerges from the throws of Sam’s pre death spaff-a-thon. Vloggers. The males will hatch first (of course they do). Once hatched, the males will look all shifty like, have a quick butchers to see if the coast is clear and that no-one is live periscoping or anything, then against their will, impregnate the females while they sleep. This is basically paedophilic incest which explains a lot about the species. Thankfully, these bastards die aswell but not before a series of holes that lead to the surface.

By the time the females emerge carrying third generation spawns of hell, the internal flowers have started to produce pollen. The females pick up some pollen and make there way through holes made by their rapists ready to start the cycle all over again.

The result, a sweet juicy fruit that despite all thoughts to the contrary, won’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. finally something of worth and contribution to society that we can all enjoy, guilt free.

Bon Appétit.

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