***Welcome to Beastly Tales. Each has a message, a moral. All are meant to have an element of humour. Naturally, any names included do not depict real folk but are included as part of the joke.***

***All rights reserved.
(As with Beastly Banter Beastly Tales is written and illustrated by Richard Hersel.)***

***Thank you for your following.
Richard Hersel***


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<h1>BEASTLY TALES</h1>

<h1>THE NOBLE GRAPE</h1>

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***Most table grapes, nowadays, don’t have seeds,
But not for Pierre Parfue, no such creeds.
“The big Red Globe grapes I do so prefer,”
“Three or four pips in each one sir!”
Pierre would take a brown paper packet,
Into a theatre, avoiding the bought choc racket.
“Much more healthy, no doubt, yes, indeed.”
“To munch on a juicy grape with a seed!”
Sometimes he’d spit the seeds back in the bag.
But during exciting parts of the film, his attention would lag.
Oft times, at such moments, he’d express the pips high,
As though sending them into orbit in the sky.
Their trajectory would follow the usual pattern.
Dropping on heads of those people who’d sat on,
Yes, sat on a seat, not too far away.
And such missiles, accompanied by a salivatory spray.***


***People would then look, in annoyance, around
But the source of such missiles couldn’t be found.
Pretty soon Pierre saw the humour in this act.
So he pursued it even more, with little tact.
He’d go now to the movies twice a day,
To pursue his new found sport, come what may.
He became better able to control direction and distance.
Pursuing his sport with admirable persistence.
The Theatre usher would suddenly switch on her flashlight,
But Pierre sat motionless, fading into the night.
Clutching his brown paper bag of big grapes.
A “SuperHero” but without any capes!***


***The very next day, with his hair neatly pinned,
During a remake of “Gone with the Wind”,
Pierre took in a kilo of crimson missiles,
Preparing for war, with his arsenal fissiles,
Well, not exactly fissile, but you know what we mean,
Better to be struck by a grape pip then a dry bean!
Just as the heroine was kissing the hero,
Pierre let off a volley, worthy of Nero.
A full broadside, ejected at speed,
That day, those in front, hit by grape seed.
Like a broadside from a Blunderbus,
My, what a commotion, what a big fuss!
And, just as consciousness the victims were regaining,
They felt, unbelievably, that it was raining.
Yes, lubricated by all that grape juice,
Pierre’s mouth ejected saliva, like a sluice!***


***Pierre had attracted attention from neighbouring seats,
Whispering and pointing, time for retreats.
So he crept away, into the night,
To “gird up his loins,” for another day’s fight!
His reputation had become somewhat poxy,
Never mind, another film showing at the Roxy!***

![noble grape.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQme4YXe61keoGnRW3sCpB7w5GRNW6LtSR3eBbaY9ky3yaa/noble%20grape.png)

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