Pineapple and I
Just for fun I thought I'd put up something I wrote almost 10 years ago. I wrote it to a friend in a letter whilst I was living in a prolonged stressful environment. Pure silliness for me is an amazing outlet.
PINEAPPLE AND I
When we first met he was quiet, came across shy. Not like the other fruits and vegetables I knew. He needed a place and I needed someone to help me with my Spanish so it worked out great. I’m not the big social person and I liked that he could hang out on his own, watch TV., play cards, whatever. Didn’t need constant attention.
I didn’t think much of his quirks at first. We’ve all got ‘em. Especially a confirmed bachelor such as myself. He did his thing. I did mine. But there are quirks and there is just plain bizarre behaviour. I mean, what would your reaction be to someone deliberately sneezing on your arm? Not a good one if you’d been me. Or scratching messages in my soap like help, die or bust and get out. Like I said, you try to ignore it, but for how long? Putting extra pepper in my soup. Making gumdrop trails around the house. Calling me Pablo?!? He could call me Pablo, man, but I didn’t come!
That was the line drawn for me. That was the proverbial straw. I snapped. I lost it. Little Tropical was out on his prickly hiney faster than you could say fruit fly.
Huh. It should’ve ended there. Hey! Stuff happens. People talk. You try the friendship thing. It bombs. You move on. Not Pineapple. First the breathy phone calls and the ominous click. Then knocks on the door but no one there! Flamingos on my lawn. The carrot row missing from my garden. Woolly socks hanging from the wind chimes!!!
I gotta tell you, I don’t know how much longer I can live like this. But what are my choices? I’m not the type to make cocktail out of the guy but minute after month of this endless aberrant behaviour? I don’t know.
So there you have it. For what it’s worth, that’s my story. Sad, entertaining, even comic. But know this: I only live to write the last sentence in this tragic tale.
*
It never used to be like this, Pineapple and I. I mean we were friends, yeah, but living like a hunted animal? You just don’t think it could ever happen to you, ya know? It’s always someone else’s problem and then one day you wake up and WAMMO! There you are and life is sitting on your chest and there’s nowhere to hide. Somehow you think if you can’t see it it’s not there. HA! I’ve lived that lie. But when you turn in an unguarded moment, only to see this big fruit scribbling with crayons all over your favourite book you can’t keep denying the facts. It’s in your face.
When we first met he was quiet, came across shy. Not like the other fruits and vegetables I knew. He needed a place and I needed someone to help me with my Spanish so it worked out great. I’m not the big social person and I liked that he could hang out on his own, watch TV., play cards, whatever. Didn’t need constant attention.
I didn’t think much of his quirks at first. We’ve all got ‘em. Especially a confirmed bachelor such as myself. He did his thing. I did mine. But there are quirks and there is just plain bizarre behaviour. I mean, what would your reaction be to someone deliberately sneezing on your arm? Not a good one if you’d been me. Or scratching messages in my soap like help, die or bust and get out. Like I said, you try to ignore it, but for how long? Putting extra pepper in my soup. Making gumdrop trails around the house. Calling me Pablo?!? He could call me Pablo, man, but I didn’t come!That was the line drawn for me. That was the proverbial straw. I snapped. I lost it. Little Tropical was out on his prickly hiney faster than you could say fruit fly.
Huh. It should’ve ended there. Hey! Stuff happens. People talk. You try the friendship thing. It bombs. You move on. Not Pineapple. First the breathy phone calls and the ominous click. Then knocks on the door but no one there! Flamingos on my lawn. The carrot row missing from my garden. Woolly socks hanging from the wind chimes!!!
I gotta tell you, I don’t know how much longer I can live like this. But what are my choices? I’m not the type to make cocktail out of the guy but minute after month of this endless aberrant behaviour? I don’t know.
So there you have it. For what it’s worth, that’s my story. Sad, entertaining, even comic. But know this: I only live to write the last sentence in this tragic tale.
*
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