ANOTHER reason fruit is evil.

Mostly I have no problem with fruit. One of my all-time favorite foods is passion fruit skittles and cherry starbursts. Also, pineapple isn't bad. Pineapples are like that girl in high school that tries to set a record and kiss every guy on the basketball team--everyone likes them, but they give you canker sores.

But mostly fruits are a lesser evil version of vegetables. I will occasionally share the different reasons why fruits and vegetables are evil and must be avoided.

Today's reason:

Fruit is violent.

Mrs. Reese's Cup of Dr. Pepper called and asked to come help pick pears for some god-forsaken canning project in which she is participating all day Saturday. Well, all day, or long enough to keep me from watching the Tennessee-Florida game.

Of course I agreed. I am on a short leash. Short enough that I admit it freely and with a small amount of fear that she will read this post.

The mom-in-law picked me up and was supposed to take me home so I could change from my designer Mervyn's/Ebay attire into a more appropriate Salvation Army ensamble.

Instead she carts me straight to the "orchard" wear her boyfriend awaits to galavant around the town in wild wanderings of middle-aged-divorced romance, with a potential nightcap at Cracker Barrel if all goes well.

So I pull up to the "orchard", which turns out to be an old man's back yard. The kids are eating rotten pears and dirt and the Mrs is on the top rung of a 300 year old ladder held together by staples.

I get what appears to be a lacrosse net made from barbed-wire on a ten foot broom handle. It may have been one of the murder weapons used in the lastest Friday the 13 movie when that "pineapple" girl, mentioned above, sets her record.

I reach up and pluck two pears.

Easy Peasy.

Wrong. Immedidately I am carpet-bombed by a dozen overly-ripe orbs. Luckily, only my hand and custom Wal-Mart loafers received the kiss of splattered death.

I mutter a curse word under my breath and briefly catch criticizing look from the 1 year old.

I go into "pear-picking mode". Okay stop.

Tangent:

Males will occasionally pretend that the task they are attempting to complete is vital to rescuing a beautiful woman, achieving world-renown, or simply saving the world. The reason we do this is to add meaning to an otherwise menial task to help us focus.

In this case, I was Earl Murgle, PhD. Biologist to the stars and advisor to the President and King of Zanzibar. Aliens had infested the national pear orchards, and only I could save the world--and a beautiful dame perched on a treacherous ladder. Thus, "Pear Picking Mode."

End of Tangent

I reached up slowly to snag a large green monster dangling from limbs. I quickly snag it, but immediately see my error. Two large, brown and saucy pears plummet toward me. I step back and the goo from the first carpet-bombing causes me to slip.

Slam.

A third, previously unseen goo-ball knocks me on the noggin. The curse word isn't muttered. The one year old isn't impressed. The world ends and the dame I was supposed to save ends up giving me a dirty look the whole ride home.