A short Story
written by Evelyn Creon
Dropping the last chunk of frozen fruit into the blender’s pitcher, I picked up the milk carton and was just about to drench the fruit with the sweet tasting liquid when I hear my mother’s voice from the next room over. “Don’t forget to put the durian in.” All the smiles of joy at the thought of getting away without putting the durian in the smoothie vanish, with those unpleasant words of my mothers. Then remembering the taste of the durian on my tongue the last time I tasted it. And recalling the unbearable smell of rotting flesh when we opened it, it was so bad that everyone had to leave the room. Just the thought made my stomach turn, it was that BAD. The delicacy from India where people brag about it, or warn you to watch out.
I am trying to imagine a kid soliloquizing how much he loves the fruit. And even that is sickening.
I had two choices. One I could pretend that I didn’t hear my mother, or I could put the durian into the smoothie and have it ruin the taste of all the other flavors. If I chose to ignore my mother, she would definitely know and I would end up getting nice long talking too. I chose to stick it into the smoothie so that I could avoid the wrath of my mother.
I very unwillingly went to the freezer pulled out the distasteful durian, opened the bag and put a few nice sized chunks into the smoothie. All those dreams of a tasteful smoothie were ruined by my mother reminding me, no telling me to put the durian in the smoothie.
I watched the last piece of durian fall through my fingers an join the fruit on the bottom of the blender’s pitcher. With a plunk as it hit the other fruit reminding me yet again of the unpleasant flavor to come when blended all together.
Durian the fruit from India were the people loved it and didn’t even think twice about the smell. The only fruit that I despised and hated; but was inclined to put in the food to ruin the flavor. Only so that it would be gone and I would never have to taste it again.
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