Once upon a time, in a small, quiet town, there lived a man named Greg who loved avocados more than life itself. Greg wasn’t just an avocado enthusiast—he was an avocado *connoisseur*. He could tell the ripeness of an avocado by simply whispering sweet nothings to it. His dream was to grow the world’s most perfect avocado, and he named it “Guacenstein.”

One fateful morning, Greg woke up to find his prized avocado tree—home to Guacenstein—completely bare. Not a single avocado remained. Greg let out a scream so loud it startled the neighborhood cats into forming a spontaneous jazz band.
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I don't get the story
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