On my way back from a recent trip to Whole Foods, I was in my car thinking about my highly inflated purchases, and wondering how much of my food’s airfare I had paid for. My grapes were imported from from Chile, my oranges from South Africa, and my avocado from Argentina.
It dawned on me that my fruit is worldlier than I am! So, I thought we could kill some time while stuck in traffic by discussing travel, good hotels, and sightseeing.
The grapes were extremely friendly. Well, they were seedless, so what would you expect? They went on to warn me about their country. “Ay dios mio, jou don want to go to Chile. It may mean cold en Ingles, but esta muy caliente . Also, jou should remember to wash us bueno. We may be organic, but jou have no idea how much bug poop jour eating.”
“Wow that was overly informational Grapes, I’m glad we spoke.”
The oranges were not so pleasant. One cantankerous orange spoke from my biodegradable sack made of recycled hemp or some such product and said, “You call yourself a conservationist!?”
“What do you mean?”
“You live in Florida and you just bought oranges from South Africa! How do you sleep at night?”
“So, you’re a ‘Greenie’” I should have guessed, you being organic and all. Well, I will have you know whenever I see an empty plastic bottle I throw it in my SUV and drive 3 miles out of the way to take it to a collection site. You can’t say I don’t do my share.”
“Yeah? And I bet you leave your car running while you drop it off.”
“Well, of course I do, it’s super hot in Florida. Or, as your bag mates would say, muy caliente.”
I know, not so creative, but it’s hard to think of a good comeback to fruit.
I continued, “It appears the history of unrest in your country has caused you to become bitter. In addition, I don’t appreciate your tone, Orange. Sheesh, I was just trying to make polite conversation. That is the last time I talk to produce!”
Later that day, I got my revenge on that sour orange. First, I sliced him in half, and then I squeezed him to a pulp. Next, I peeled off his skin and ate his carcass. I made his friends watch, and then set them free, so they could send a message to other sour citrus. (What, it worked for Keyser Söze)
Between this post and “Camp Phone Calls Could End my Marriage,” I feel I may be ordered into anger management.
By day I’m a lifestyle expert, by night I write false facts on Wikipedia. The blog is gaining steam, so if you like it please take a sec to share it and check out the right side for RSS, bookmark, email, and newsletter sign-ups. Sooo appreciated, if I can grow this thing I can stop screwing up kid’s reports.
-Jenny From the Blog