Scene: Kitchen. Mouth-watering smells are emanating from all corners of the room. In the center, an impeccably dressed, radiant hostess prepares to cut into an avocado. Guests are due to arrive in minutes…
Ten seconds later: "Are you #$%^&*$#Q@% kidding me?" The hostess's face has now contorted itself into a mask of pure hatred as she surveys the decay that has reared its fugly head on her cutting board.
The avocado is rotten.
As you can imagine, this romantic comedy just became tragic.
When the farmers' market is closed during the winter months, I do all of my shopping at my local grocery store. I occasionally hanker for a vegetable or fruit so I take my time in the produce department, thumping, sniffing, and pinching, trying to suss out freshness.
Apparently, I suck at this.
I pick out avocadoes that seem destined for my delicious guacamole, only to cut into them and find them rotten. I peel an orange and find it devoid of any juiciness. Tomatoes, watermelon, the not-so-juicy fruits go on. Don't even mention a mealy apple in my presence.
Aside from the initial disappointment when cutting into them, these douchebag foodstuffs cut into my budget. That jicama wasn't cheap. I invested in that fucker and it totally hosed me. And it's not always convenient to try to gather up the putrescent mess and return it. And if you do try, you look like a skinflint of assholian proportions.
A good piece of fruit can totally transform my day from mediocre to magical and conversely, one bad apple can spoil my lunch…and the whole damn day. I want payback. I want to beat black-hearted produce into a bloody pulp. I want to put that defective vegetable into a vegetative state. Then I'd be satisfied with the fruits of my labor.