Apricots.

I could write you the fiction you want to read. I could. But I'll use some words wrong. Like, "He feigned indignity in the dark peninsula moon-gorge. Life was hard. Spacial relativity came easily to Ursula, who despite the body of a chicken, had the soul of a 13th century heretic, unwashed and unserved. Also, her body of a chicken was a metaphor for falling in love with a pretty girl who's name might be you." It's a choose your own adventure.

Baby, I hope you like apricots,
Because theses apricots are terrible.
You'd really have to like apricots to like these ones.