Blueberry Muffins

I woke up from my long nap, feeling warm, so I knew there was something wrong. For the past few days now, I’ve been chilled and cold in a nice fridge, I found it quite pleasant, in a bag with all my friends.

I remember then, it was yesterday. “I hope they wait a few weeks to eat us,” said Edgar, my best friend.

“Yeah, so do I,” I agreed, and I thought it would be that way, for whenever one of the children they would look at us with hungry eyes and would exclaim to their parents, “I can’t wait to eat the blueberries!”

But apparently that was not the case, for I opened my eyes, and all I saw was pitch blackness. I started to panic, “Hello?” I called out.

“Alfonso? Is that you?” I heard Edgar say.

“Edgar? Where are you? Where are we?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“We’re in the oven,” he cried.

“What?’ I asked in disbelief, “How? Why? Blueberries don’t go in the oven!”

“I think we’re in muffins,” he said quietly, he sighed.

“Edgar, I’m scared, and incredibly hot,” I started to cry.

“You’re hot because you’re baking.” He told me, “please don’t cry, because then I’m gonna cry!”

“We’re gonna die, Edgar,” I said in a hushed whisper, “We’re gonna, die, I know it.”

“Yes, but before we do, Alfonso, I have something to say…”

“What is it, Edgar?”

He said something so quietly; I could barely hear what he said.

“What was that Edgar?” I asked.

“I love you,” he said, his voice strong. My eyes started to fill with tears once more.

“I love you, too, Edgar. So much, even if we die, I will always love you Edgar.”

“You really mean that?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Yes,” my voice cracked, and I wish I knew where he was, so I could kiss him the way us Blueberries do.

I heard rustling and a creak, I felt myself moving, and I knew this was the end.

“Get them while they’re hot!” the mother said. I started to cry, I did not want to die.

“I love you Alfonso!” Edgar cried as a little boy bit into us.

“I love you too!” I said as he chewed us into mush.

Then things really got dark.