in the lush, green jungle where i, a playful parrot, soar and chatter, there's a secret known only to the critters here about the pineapple. this isn't just any secret, oh no, it's one so preinductive that not even the wise old owls' decrees could give it the cold shoulder. see, every time a pineapple decides it's time to start over and sprout anew, it whispers the secrets of rejuvenation to the earth, promising sweet treasures hidden beneath its prickly exterior to those patient enough to wait.