Thomas Jefferson liked tomatoes.

He grew them at his own house, infact.

Which, normally wouldn’t be a problem - except for the fact everybody thought they were poisonous in America.

Sure, it was common to grow them because they looked nice - not for eating.

So, because of this misbelief, Jefferson once again found himself over the edibility of tomatoes.

He had set up a party at his home. Not for any event in particular- simply for enjoyment and chatting with friends. Half in the house, half in the yards surrounding the estate.

He sat as a table, his cane in one hand, a look of utter annoyance on his face as two well-dressed woman brushed off him noting how tomatoes weren’t poison.

“ They’re beautiful decorations for a garden - not on a meal. “ One woman, in a dark blue gown and black fan in her hand stated with a scoff.

The woman beside her, dressed in an elegant violet, gave a firm nod. “ Perhaps you were eating apples and got mixed up, Jefferson. “

Jefferson scoffed. He wasn’t stupid enough to mix up apples and tomatoes. He leaned back in his seat, looking away from the ladies for a moment.

Until some tomatoes caught his eye.

He grinned - an idea quickly coming to mind. “ Fine. If they’re so poisonous, I’m a dead man. “ Jefferson said, confidence radiating from him.

The Secretary of State strode over to the area of his property where the tomatoes were - part of his garden. He picked a tomato, and much to the horror of the women - to the whole party, really - took a bite.

Jefferson turned back around with an unphased glare, seeing everyone staring at him. Jaws dropped, eyes wide, like he had just chugged a vial of cyanide.

Which, in their eyes, he kind of did.

Jefferson watched the shock of all with a deadpanned glare, dropping the bitten tomato and putting both hands on his cane.

” Not poison. “ He stated with a monotone voice - but nobody seemed to care. Or believe him, even though he just had one right in front of their eyes.