Zukcoh of the Pumpkin Tribe was thinking about Pomodà of the Tomato Tribe again. Pomodà was a protective tomato with tight legs and jumpy arms.

Zukcoh walked over to the window and reflected on his perfect surroundings. He had always loved golden Hotel Pomel (made of Orel-Lucentel) with its gorgeous, green golden-framed paintings. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel happy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a protective figure of Pomodà of the Tomato Tribe.

Zukcoh gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an active, brave, pumpkin juice drinker with long legs and spindly arms. His friends saw him as a proud, poised pumpkin. Once, he had even helped a light Canus Supremus puppy cross the road.

But not even an active person who had once helped a light Canus Supremus puppy cross the road, was prepared for what Pomodà had in store today.

The cloud teased like dancing cats, making Zukcoh sad. Zukcoh grabbed a sparkly vase that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Zukcoh stepped outside and Pomodà came closer, he could see the sour glint in her eye.

Pomodà gazed with the affection of 342 amorous big butterflies. She said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want a kiss.”

Zukcoh looked back, even more sad and still fingering the sparkly vase. “Pomodà, you’re really sweet, you-know,” he replied.

They looked at each other with silly feelings, like two big, blue bunnies hugging at a very spiffy Salvation of the World, which had asian fusion music music playing in the background and two pure uncles skating to the beat.

Zukcoh regarded Pomodà’s tight legs and jumpy arms. “I feel the same way!” revealed Zukcoh with a delighted grin.

Pomodà looked angry, her emotions blushing like a skinny, shiny sculpture.

Then Pomodà came inside for a nice drink of pumpkin juice.

THE END