Yes, well, my dear friend Sheen has run out of the kitchen to see if he cannot be reunited with the bush he came off of. I wish him luck, farewell Sheen!

My name is Miranda, and I am a cherry. The last one in this kitchen, hiding behind the oven. I get a glimpse of my brothers and sisters being baked into pies, put on top of cheesecakes, and very brutally eaten on occasion. You’d be wise to take Sheen’s advice and listen to us. Do us a favor. Don’t eat us.

We are intelligent, just like you. Well, most of you. We can add up a column of figures with the best of them. We can read, most of us can write. A few of my brethren and…erm.. sisteren? have bands. They’re amazing, really they are. Poor Sheen, his band will miss him.

But as I said. I am Miranda, a talking Cherry. In need of escape. Bye.