Mar 6, 2011

My socks aren't odd today but my pineapple is

Have you ever considered what it would be like to be a tropical fruit? To be chilling out in the tropics under a glowing sun, to travel to the big city to get your big break, to be hand picked out of a whole collection of fruit by someone who needs a gift for a sixteen year old? This is the story of a pineapple named Albert.

I remember when I first met Albert. I was dressed as a zombie at my sixteenth birthday party. He wore a red ribbon and totally rocked that look. The classiest pineapple around, he was. While we got along great and everyone loved him, the life of a pineapple is a sad one. He sat in my room for a while making the whole thing smell lovely. Then I moved him to the fridge where he wouldn't spoil. I gave him some sunglasses to wear so he wasn't blinded by the fridge light every time the door was opened. I tried to keep him happy but I knew that he was just getting older.

So I sat down with Albert and talked to him. I asked him if he would prefer to be left to get old and die after leading a full life, or if he would prefer that we remember him in his prime, as a delicious smelling and wonderful tasting fruit. He was quiet for a moment as he munched on his Froot Loops and thought long and hard about this.

He knew that if he just got older he would not fulfill his purpose in life. To be eaten, to be enjoyed. To make others happy with his rich juicy taste. Albert was never a man of many words but after a moment of deep thought he said to me "Is a pineapple uneaten a true pineapple at all?" I promised Albert that he would have a great last day, that he would live it up and say goodbye to all his friends, that he wouldn't go down like the canned pineapple slices in the cupboard that never even made friends before going through the processing plant. . . .  then he kind of went pale and asked about the canned pineapple. In retrospect, I really shouldn't have shown him.

He eventually came to and calmed down a little. I asked if he was still up for his last hurrah and he gave me that Albert nod that always said "I'm ready for anything." We went into town to meet all his friends. It was a hard day for all, but we were cheered by Albert's ever present good humor. He could always tell a great joke, that pineapple.

It was a day of joy, a day of sorrow, a day of friendship and a day of farewells. But most importantly, it was a day in which a pineapple rode a lion.

We arrived home that afternoon and Albert asked to be left alone in the fridge, to spend some quality time with his friends in there. I placed him on the shelf and as I closed the door he said "I'll see you tomorrow." a world of meaning threaded his words, but I faced them with the same determination as he did. Because no matter how ruggedly handsome this pineapple is, we both know it has to be done.

And we both know he will taste delicious.


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