Stupid Pineapple Blogfest Entry

Despite my new year's goal to be more active in the bloggersphere, it's next to impossible for me to keep track of all of the contests, cool posts, blogfests, bloghops, and who knows what else that goes on daily. So, when someone is kind enough to slap me on the back of the head and say "there's an off the wall blogfest you should really check out" I almost always will.

And a version of that statement was exactly what led me to The Stupid Pineapple Blogfest over at Thinking The Lions. After reading about Briane's crazy point tracking system I couldn't resist entering both a picture and an "essay." I would have shot for dressing up like a pineapple and trying Briane's suggested karate-ballet demonstration, but what do you know I forgot my pineapple costume at the cleaners.

And on that note, my story.

“This stupid pineapple is… fucking stupid!” screamed Epsilon throwing the fucking stupid pineapple across the room. Sitting cross-legged on the counter, munching on a stale protein chip, I watched motionless as it splattered against the bulkhead.

“What the hell!” Spinning on the slick surface, I swiveled to where Kale was standing in the doorway, staring at the juicy, pulpy mass that had been his pay check. “Do you have any idea… They don’t grow on trees anymore!”

Knuckles cracking, she grabbed a glass, cracking a powdered milk tablet over it. Shoving it and a spoon across the shiny metal counter, she bared her teeth at Kale, making me hesitate in my grab for the milk. “Then why’d you get the damn thing?”

“You said you’d never had one!” As I stirred, watching the powder turn the water sickly white, she watched him, blank faced. Closing the space between them, he rested his clenched fists on the counter, leaning past me. “I wanted to get you something special for our anniversary!”

Her fists hit the counter, hoping for a dint, and I tensed, ready to spring clear if they lost control. “Then you should have got me a box of goddamn ammo!”

Gulping down half of my milk, for courage, I let the words out, tensing for their reaction even as they slipped out. “Damn straight!”

Sil’s eyes flicked to the door, worried Uncle Bobby had heard, and Kale’s head whipped down. “Don’t swear!”

Pushing one of the hard, tasteless patties around my plate, I gazed up at Kale, jaw set. “But you swear!”

Brushing his stringy dreadlocks behind an ear, Kale loomed over me. “I’m not seven! Nobody gives a damn if I swear!”

Biting my lip, eyes flitting, I stared at him as he turned back to Epsilon. And just as their eyes met, I opened my mouth again. “Why the hell not?”

Epsilon stared at Kale, and Kale stared me, eyebrow arched.

Laughter bounced off the cold walls, crackling like static, as Uncle Bobby called through the door. “I told you not to buy that thing.”

- Aaron