evil pineapple

the first warning sign
was when my pineapple
opened a pair
of yellow eyes,
peering at me from
the fruit bowl.
unheeding
I turned my back
which is when
it started molesting
the  oranges.
I had never heard
fruit squeal before
and reasoned
they must be highly
disturbed
by the unwelcome attentions
of the exotic prickles
as, hindered by
the bowls steep lip
attempts to roll away
were doomed to fail
and so,
as a bunch of grapes
quivered and huddled
in fright
I took up the kitchen knife
and prepared
to make rings
of the fragrantly
fiendish fruit
and advanced upon
the platter.
but much to my dismay,
the pineapple
unfolded
stringy little legs
and with a pitter-patter
of feet
made good his escape
through a convenient window
leaving me clutching
a cleaver
alongside a gaggle
of distressed citrus