I’m a fruit segregationist, and I hate pears. Not only should they be kept in a separate drawer of the refrigerator, it’s perfectly OK if you want to skip that step altogether and toss your pear in the compost pile. Really, it’s a better fate for all involved. The pear can face a dignified demise, certainly a better way to go than being tossed, two bites missing, into the trash bin. And you don’t have to suffer through the obligatory nibble before shoving the uneaten pear down the disposal.
Pears are the ugly friend of the fruit clique. The thing with pears, though, is that they think they’re pretty. Listen, Pear, if banana is Meagan Fox, you’re Lady Gaga. Yeah, you heard me. Put on your I’m-so-hip-and-Warhol-woulda-loved-me clothes but know this, Pear: At the end of the night, I’m taking home the sweet, skinny, smooth fruit. I’m gonna unpeel her, run my hands all over her yellow smoothness, and eat every.single.bite. But you, pear… It’s probably best if you get in the car with the guy wearing Ed Hardy.
Pears are cocky motherfuckers, too. They hang out with the apples, acting like they taste as crisp. Pretending that they give a spirited crunch. I’ve bitten into a pear, thinking it was an apple, and met with bitter disgust. Have you ever run your fingers over a pear’s skin? It’s rough, like fruit sandpaper, and littered with raised pear warts.
And then, you have the pear lovers. Now, pretty much anyone that gets excited about fruit is suspect. But the pear lovers are a strange, lying bunch. I’ll express my disdain for the fruit and inevitably, a pear-sympathizing jerkface speaks up in the fruit’s defense.
Me: Goddamn, I hate pears
Pear Lover: Oh, did you just eat one?
Me: No, I was just thinking about how disgusting they are.
Pear Lover: I love pears!
Me: But the texture is, you know, gross.
Pear Lover: Noooo, I think it’s nice. It’s interesting and different. Mmm. I just love pears.
Christ, stop lying. You don’t love pears. No one loves a semi-sweet, gritty, rough-skinned fruit. I know you want to seem interesting, maybe even mysterious. If that’s the look you’re going for, pick up a passionfruit. Or some pomagranate seeds. You’ll look just remarkable. Or, maybe you’re trying to be Ghandi, loving the unloved, reaching out a compassionate hand. Let me remind you: Fruit does not have feelings. Go adopt a puppy or feed a feral cat. No one buys your pear-loving façade. I bet you pretend to like raisins too.
This was done for a writing prompt — I don’t hate pears (much).