Bitterness of things

She picked on the sliced red chillis that were soaked in light soya sauce and carefully removed the chilli seeds with her chopsticks. As she was going to put the red strips into her mouth, they sang to her,

"Don't eat us! For we will be minced, by the cruel teeth of your cruel jaw!"

This made her giggle and wonder about life and death. How is it that these little dead chilli could even struggle for their existence? When most of the time she was drunk and could not bear to consider the meaning of her own life? They ought to think of it as some metamorphosis. Like they will be minced, and swallowed, and gone into the stomach with the rest of the food that she had swallowed, and will eventually be passed out of her as, well, shit.

"Look at it this way," she said to them in her head, "it's like, the closest you would ever be to becoming a butterfly."

This reminded the chillis how bitter it was that they felt towards the disgusting caterpillars that bored into their brothers and sisters, and completely ruin them, before morphing into butterfly-like-moths, hatching like angels into the skies. Although she did not realise that they indeed tasted a little bitter, she whispered telepathically to them,

"If you give me your hearts, I will promise to break them."

They replied, begrudgingly,

"If we don't give you our hearts, who else will we give it to?"