Quillbot's Tomatoes

My daughter runs to the garden for her tomatoes. Over her shoulder she tells me I am allowed to see them--though I planted them--if I keep them secret from the neighbor's army of raccoons. I lose sight of her between the rows; a shapeless fear grips my throat; I nearly scream. But I find her beneath a clump of bright red berries--for that's what tomatoes technically are, no?--pulling one down with a pop and handing it to me. 

To get her tomatoes, my daughter dashes to the garden. Although I planted flowers, she says over her shoulder that I am permitted to see them as long as I keep them hidden from the neighbor's army of raccoons. Between the rows, I can no longer see her, and a formless horror nearly makes me scream. But I come upon her behind a cluster of bright red berries—for tomatoes are, after all, technically just berries, don't you think?—pulling one down with a pop and handing it to me.

My daughter walks to the garden to collect her tomatoes. She says over her shoulder that while I planted flowers, I am authorized to see them as long as I keep them free from the neighbor's army of raccoons. I can no longer see her due to rows, and a hideous fear near makes me scream. Yet, Mary has sheltering behind a bunch of brilliant red berries while I approaching her; after all, tomatoes are just berries, don't you think? Then pushes one down with a pop and tosses it to me.

To really get her tomatoes, my son should walk to the garden. I'm entitled to see the flowers for I planted them, she says over her shoulder, as long as I keep them clear from the neighbor's army of raccoons. Due to a disagreement, I can no longer see her, and a horrible terror closer near drives me to scream. Mary, unfortunately, had lurking behind a bunch of gorgeous red berries as I approach her; after all, don't you think tomatoes are just berries? Then he pitches one toward me after pressing one down with a pop.

My son must stroll to the garden to really get her tomatoes. As long as I keep the flowers free from the neighbor's army of raccoons, she says over her shoulder, "I'm entitled to see the flowers for I planted them." I can't see her again owing to a conflict, and a great dread that also is getting ever closer to me make me scream. Considering tomatoes are berries, don't you imagine Mary had lurking behind a group of lovely red berries as I reached her? Then, after hitting one down with a pop, he pitches one in our vicinity.

To really get her tomatoes, my father needs to make a trip to the garden. I can't see her because of a disagreement, and a tremendous dread that is also growing close to me make me scream. She says over her shoulder, "I'm supposed to see the flowers for I planted them." As long as I keep the flowers free from the neighbor's army of raccoons. Knowing because tomatoes are berries, should not really you image Mary hidden behind a group of gorgeous red berries as I reached her? He then pitches one toward each other after smacking one down with a pop.

[The above was written by cycling the first paragraph, written by me, a human, through Quillbot, an AI which “paraphrases” text; any word/edit choices where Quillbot was unsure, signified by an orange underline, I took the third suggestion in the dropdown of choices. I then fed that paragraph back into Quillbot for another round of paraphrasing until we had the above.]