The Disappointing Berry

I made a mistake of digesting a huckleberry, and once the juice began pumping through my veins I just had to find more, no costs spared. So we scoured the mountains for the elusive huckleberry, and found only skiffs and traces of remnants of purple morsels. My shins carry the scars of the remnant of my battle, man (woman) verses mountain tundra. I hope that I devoured enough of those gems to last me until next year. Those pints that I manage to strip from the bushes are booked on the next flight to Omaha. As of now, I have no bounty to deliver to those Iowan Blueberry Lovers, trying to persuade them of Blueberries' tastelessness.