are eating the strawberries, each and every one. First the ripening ones were mysteriously becoming limp threads, then the white ones were getting chomped. Plucking the victimized fruit revealed the little slippery perpetrators in action.
So here’s to you, bastards! Have a nice warm Pabst Blue Ribbon in a pie plate. I know there are infinity of you, but maybe taking some of you out will leave a berry or two for me.