Mangos in the fridge. Too many.
It’s mango season, in my landlord’s garden at least. Almost every morning I get a sackful of mangoes, or the landlady slides them in the door. They’re good mangos but I honestly don’t know what to do with them anymore. Everything smells like mango now, my breath, the fridge, the garbage, the kitchen. Even the water tastes like mango. I give bags away to anyone that visits, I feed the cows, but I still have more.
So anyways, if you want some mango, I guess drop by the house.