The depressed little fruits and veggies that spent their last days languishing in the clear, plastic produce drawer at the bottom of my fridge. Brightly colored tomatoes and green peppers, fervently hoping they would attain their inherent right as produce by making for a healthy meal.. Perhaps accompanying my salad or The Surge's signature stir fry.. But I failed them bitterly.
The three strawberries left in the container, clinging together desperately, praying I would pluck them from obscurity by placing them atop my morning bowl of Kix.. Alas, due to my rampant taste for junk food these living, growing beings were relegated to a stinky, wrinkly death. Their dreams slowly dying each time I opened the fridge, chubby fingers grabbing for the jar of nacho cheese, or the Diet Coke... but never the sweet strawberries, never the rosy cheeked apples.
Oh, I'd bought them with such high hopes. Plans for healthy breakfasts, creative low carb snacks involving Ricotta cheese.. Yet I left them to die. First their vibrant skins developed an unhealthy brown complexion, then they began sinking into themselves, and finally a fuzz of green began to mutate their once perfect forms..
I heard them shrieking for me last Wednesday when I opened the fridge in search of that Snickers bar I'd placed amongst them.. safely hidden from The Surge.. He'll never think to look there! But I callously ignored their calls..hedonistically biting into the Snickers and slamming the door on their screams... And now, like those forlorn Christmas trees on the lot, the sad, weepy ones that don't get sold before December 25th - the strawberries will never reach their potential.. I ask you, is there anything more heartwrenching than a Christmas tree, chopped down in it's prime - all for nothing??
Like the trees, the strawberries were planted, cared for by their devoted parents, Mother Nature and Father time, babysat by the sun, the moon and stars.. the wind whispering lullabies throughout their tender young days.. Until one day when they were plucked from their cozy, earthen home with promises of high powered jobs as garnishment in a five-star restaurant.. Maybe they'd end up gracing the pages of Gourmet in lusciously provocative arrangements! If they were lucky that perky lass Rachael Ray might utilize them to demonstrate a fancy cutting technique.. TV stardom! They'd do Mom Nature and Pop Time proud..
Little did they know they were fed a pack of dirty lies. Their life was for naught.. They would die a slow, agonizing death at the hands of a Doritos fiend.. resigned to a smelly grave in the trash bin.
I'm sorry fruits and vegetables... So sorry.