Comedy
This week: Peaches Edited by: Robert Waltz More Newsletters By This Editor
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You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches.
― Dita Von Teese |
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If you're old enough, maybe you remember chalkboards.
From what I hear, these days classrooms have replaced them with bland whiteboards and erasable markers. But back in the stone age, we had stone, real or fake, that you used chalk and felt erasers on.
But the important thing about chalkboards was this: When the teacher left the room, it was traditional for the class clown (e.g. me) to go up to the board and slooooowly rake fingernails down the slate, producing a piercing, shrieking sound that was guaranteed to make the rest of the class cringe.
It made us cringe, too, but at least we had the satisfaction of being the one to make that horrific noise to disrupt the classroom.
There's no real way to describe that sound. Similar sounds are described in relation to it - "like fingernails down a chalkboard." It hurts your very teeth.
I'm reminded of this sound every time I try to eat a peach.
In a twist that just reeks of the existence of karma, every time I bite into a ripe, delicious, juicy peach, the fuzz on the skin twists my teeth around and detracts from the otherwise pleasant sensation of peach-eating.
I told a former girlfriend about this once when she went to buy peaches at a grocery store, and she was incredulous. "Really? I could peel them first."
"No," I said. "I'll just get these nectarines."
"Or I could cut it up for you."
"Or I could just eat a nectarine."
"What about canned peaches?"
"Canned peaches are foul, and really, I can just have a nectarine."
Thing is, while I like nectarines (which are actually mutant peaches without the fuzz) well enough, they do have a different flavor than classic peaches. And of all the fruits that are out there, peaches are definitely in my top 5.
Around here, it's peach season, so I had one recently. I had to do the work to cut it up first, though, so I wasn't biting into chalkboard fingernails. And doing that much work is normally against my religious beliefs, which can be summed up as "don't do more work than you absolutely have to."
Still, for peaches, it's worth it. Problem is, when it's not peach season, there are no peaches.
This is preposterous. Somewhere in the world, at any given moment, there are ripe peaches. Why are they not in my store? Well, because all the local stores have decided that it's more important to offer "local" produce than import things from California or Mexico or whatever.
And look, I get it - you want to help the environment. But this should pale in comparison to me being able to get a damn peach whenever I freakin' want. One of the few real benefits of living in the 21st century, right up there with neurosurgery and sliced bread, is the ability to get supplies from all over the world, and quickly. Tequila from Mexico. Avocados from California. Vegemite from Australia. And fruit.
So I guess I've had my yearly peach. I think soon I'll have more apples than I can handle. Maybe I'll give some to the teachers who no longer have to put up with fingernails on the chalkboard. |
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