Pineapple on Canvas: The Odd Adventures of a Toy in the City

The one about the Other Fruit

Today was a Wednesday, and Maher had just arrived home from work. He had found the small pineapple waiting patiently for him at the door when he got back so, afraid he may accidentally step on the small toy, he scooped him up and placed him on the kitchen counter before kicking off his shoes and changing out of his business suit.

After he settled in, he leaned on the counter and stared at the little toy, "So this is real isn't it, little guy?"

Papple, stared back with his big black eyes, blinked and replied, "Sure is...I think!"

"Man," said Maher, more to himself than Papple. "I just can't get over how real you seem. It's like you're alive or something!"

The doorbell rang, interrupting the exchange between the pineapple and the man, and Maher went over to open the door. He let in the delivery guy, and after a quick exchange of a five-dollar tip, Maher put the heavy box onto the kitchen counter and started to pull the items out.

Maher turned and winked at Papple. "Secret delivery, little guy. Don't tell Ella. She would freak out at how much unhealthy stuff I have in here!"

First came the milk and yoghurt, which he put in the fridge, then the fruits. This time he had gotten cherries, peaches, and his favorite, watermelon. He laid the fruits, in their plastic bags, on the counter so that he could wash them later. He then pulled out the "lunch essentials," as on the days that Ella slept over, Maher always made sure to pack her a lunch, which generally consisted of two soft boiled eggs, Babybel cheeses and plenty of fruit. He worried she didn't make time to eat during the workday.

At last, he came to the item he had been waiting for all week, a discrete brown box. Inside this box was a small slice of heaven--coconut cake and all its saturated fats!

All this time, Papple had been seated pensively on the white-grey marble counter, observing Maher's every move. He waddled slowly over to the greenish see-through bags that contained the cherries and the peaches and slowly poked the bags.

Forgetting about Papple and the rest of the unpacking, Maher took the cake box and a plastic fork and went to sit down on the large, over-sized L-shaped couch in Couch Room to enjoy his treat. A natural athlete, Maher never had to worry much about weight.

Papple, in a daze, turned his back to the green bags and plopped down at the corner of the counter glaring at Maher. If Maher had been listening carefully, he would have heard a huff and a puff escape from the exact spot that the little plush sat.

After several minutes, Papple got back up and turned around, a slow boil building in his stuffing filled heart. A moment later he ran as fast as his tiny round ball feet would take him, right over to the bags and started clawing at them, screaming in anguish.

"WHY YOU IN BAG? YOU GOOD FRUIT! PAPPLE HELP YOU," he screamed, his small fingerless hands ineffective at ripping open the green plastic that contained the fruits.

Hearing all the commotion and the seeing the green plastic flying through the air, Maher dropped his fork and rushed over to the countertop where he saw Papple, tears streaming down his face, sitting in exhaustion and crying over the bags, stroking the fruit inside.

"Papple!" he said, "Hey little guy. Are you ok? What's the matter?"

Papple sobbed and sniffled, the scent of sweet pineapple from his sweat and tears filling the air. "Maher, why you punish fruit?"

"What do you mean, Papple?"

"Why Maher put fruits in Bad Bags, too?" he said, as he plucked at the plastic bags. "They bad fruit? You punish them?"

"No, no, I didn't put them there, they came like that," said Maher.

"Oh okay, so they is okay?" Papple asked, a look of confusion crossing his face as another small plump tear fell from his eyes and made its way across his round belly.

"Yes, Papple, of course," said Maher, trying to explain what was going on both to himself and the little pineapple. "Well, see these fruits are meant to come packaged like this."

"Is they bad fruit?" Papple inquired again, and then, getting to the real question he wanted to ask, "Was Papple bad fruit too? Is that why Papple in Bad Bag for three years because he no good?"

Stricken by a mixture of guilt and confusion, Maher came up with the best lie he could think of at that moment. "Papple was a very good boy and a very good fruit. These fruits are meant to be eaten and they aren't actually even fruit. They just look like fruits to be cute. Do you understand?"

Papple didn't actually understand, so his software system filed that tidbit of information to try and reflect on it later. That said, he knew that he would believe whatever Maher told him so he nodded his head slowly in agreement. Maher took a clean, damp towel and wiped Papple off before giving him a hug and a tussle to the leaves on the top of his head.

"How about we go watch the Mets?" Maher asked. "And I'll give you some of my coconut cake if you promise to keep it a secret from Ella, okay?"

"Papple like that," he replied, even though he had no idea who or what the Mets were or what coconut cake tasted like. But he did know that he wasn't a bad fruit, and that no other fruits were in danger, and that was all that really mattered to him at that moment. The world was very large and very confusing for a little toy who had a lot to learn yet...