Sometimes a thought enters your head, and then you hear yourself saying it to someone.
In some of these ‘sometimes’, you might find yourself muttering it aloud, causing others to get off the bus quickly.
Other ‘sometimes’, the preferable ones (unless there were no spare seats on the bus), mean you do what I did, which was to say it to my wife. In a museum. There were many seats.
In fact, there were so many seats, you could tell that some people weren’t sitting down, but not due to seeing anyone standing. Just, lots of chairs really.
You might also find yourself typing such things on a blog, causing people reading it on smart phones to get off of buses all the same, but perhaps it’s still best to revert to my what was going to be my original point.
I said something to my wife. And now I want to share it with you.
“Jenny, which fruit looks best in mid-air?”
My wife has a wonderful capacity to both humour and wither me with a look. She doesn’t do that for just anyone, but perhaps not many other than myself can draw such infuriated pity. Especially in a museum (lots of chairs).
Choosing the ‘humour-him’ route (there were children present), she indulged me, saying “I don’t know Sam. Bananas?”
I had hoped she wouldn’t say that, because I worried she might be right, which meant I was too with my first thought.
The punch-line fruit.
A very applicable fruit, certainly, but still the go-to fruit in the historical contexts of people using a fruit for something a fruit shouldn’t be used for, and for things that don’t actually need to be done.
I think it’s a blend of the shape, colour, peel, consistency and pronunciation. Everything else is just legend.
Certainly over-relied upon, and as such, I didn’t want it to be the answer to my question; I didn’t want banana/s (singular or plural it really doesn’t matter at this point) to look good in mid-air.
But, damn it, they do.
I expressed this all to my wife, who by this point had chosen her well-practiced alternative to humouring me.
“Pineapples?” she ‘fuck-offed’.
Unfortunately, perhaps more of the same with Mr Pineapple. Certainly not the jobber of mid-level fruit expectations, but they’ve at least been put forward for their obvious attributes.
Pineapples, really are just trying too hard.
A silver-placed friend with the wacky green hair-do, trying to talk to women at a party where women are really in-to fruit but getting ignored in favour of his friend shaped like a big penis with a healthy yellow glow.
I wanted to tell my wife this, but she’d been through enough today, even though earlier we’d practically had a bus to ourselves.
So I continued my thoughts and settled on a fruit (phrasing you can’t use in reference to bananas or pineapples because it is inappropriate and, more so, already been done) with a degree of subtlety.
Bear with me.
A lime, emerald green, backed by the bluest of baby boy skies, suspended in mid-air, just for us to see.
I thought that was nice. I told my wife that I’d concluded, and this cheered her up immensely.
Then again, maybe all fruit are pre-determined to look good whilst falling. If they drop from a branch, with few-enough leaves, on a clear autumn noon with strongly sunlit blue skies, any fruit looks good, because they’ve been doing it for centuries.
Bananas, pineapples, limes, maybe even a tomato.
A sense of style, doing as the ancestors did it. Dropping, and looking good.
THAT is good museum conversation, but I couldn’t continue as my daughter needed help eating her apple.
It was a good one. You should have seen it go.