Monday, November 29, 2010
The Religiously Ignorant Fruit Basket
‘Excuse me, madam”, the banana gently urged. “Might you be kind enough to scrunch over just a tad?”
The pear tightened her face and boldly wiggled her hips forward to create more space. “I’m sorry sir”, she anxiously replied. “It’s just that I have been cursed with this damned pear shape my entire life.”
The plum grunted and juicingly grinned from the back of the basket. “Curse? More like a blessing in my book! There hasn’t been a single supermodel that has begged her trainer for a more curvaceous plum shape.”
Banana unpeeled his eyes from the bickering fruity divas and peered out the cold, frosted window. He wondered aloud where their end destination could be. “You fruits have any idea where we are heading?” he asked.
“Not a clue, but given that it is early in December, I assume we are headed somewhere Jewish.” The grape whined. “No way in heck we’d last until Christmas.”
The peach turned glum. “I can’t go somewhere Jewish. I’m tropical! And there’s no way I’m kosher.”
“I don’t think that matters” replied the banana. “I think Jewish folks can eat whatever they want. I’m pretty sure the whole kosher thing only applies to salted meats.”
There was a gasp from the wrapped salami that was hiding at the bottom.
“No, salami! I’m sure you are safe. There’s no way any self-respecting Jewish man or woman would ever waste their time on you.”
The banana forced itself into trying to sound convincing.
“Well, if we are not headed somewhere Jewish, maybe we are bound for a Catholic baptism?” the apple exclaimed in a hopeful, saucy tone.
There was a low, lamenting moan produced from the produce. “Not this again!” the banana wallowed. “What is it with you and your incessant need to get eaten by a Catholic person?”
The apple blushed. “I don’t know. I hear they circumscribe.”
“Don’t you mean circumcise?” pined the apple.
“What? No. Circumscribe. Circumscribe!”
The banana shrugged. “I think you are both confused.” They were clearly plum crazy.
The grape looked a little sour and stared into the distance. “What if we are headed to a Mormon household?”
Pineapple had heard enough and chimed “I am pretty sure Mormons only eat carrots, Jello and fake potatoes smothered in cheese. Fruits are forbidden.”
“I hear they can’t even pierce their navels” tarted the orange. “And grape, you better pray that it takes a long time. If we are headed to a Muslim mosque, they can only eat fresh grapes. Raisins are a huge no-no.”
Salami was once again heard from the bottom of the basket. “What about salted meats? Can Muslims eat salted meats? “
Banana split the answer into two. “Mormons no. Muslims, yes.”
Salami prayed for the Mormons.
Just as the basket was about to rock with worry, the delivery van pulled into the parking lot of a Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
“What is this place?” the pineapple asked.
The banana froze as a man lifted them from the back. He whispered to the others, “I don’t know, but I’m a little concerned by the lack of windows in that place. It is no place for a fruit to spoil.”
My apologies for the lack of posts lately. Hopefully this semi-offendable post will make up for it. I also apologize that I have not been around to visit your blogs. I will shortly.
Finally, I rarely if ever do any blog pimping, but I have a friend that is just getting into it and could use some love. Check out Silk Road here.