“What an evolutionary mess we are!” one peach proclaimed. “What confused creatures. Do we taste like apples? Bananas? Pineapples? Pears? We are but a confused concoction of flustered fruits!”
“I disagree,” presented another peach, “we are but prominent and well-rounded.”
“Your logic is fuzzy,” said a preacher. “Yes, although on the surface we are smooth enough to the touch, it’s not about our agreeable exteriors. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Once you break into our full-bodied flesh, there are layers of tender love, juicy and sweet! We are gifted with what we are given; we must relish what it is we ARE!”
“That may be. But how do you explain my gut feeling that deep down, there is a hard truth, and soon we’re destined to bite the dust, and disperse?”
“...Ah, this pitiful Truth keeps us grounded and will set us free.”
The peaches met their collective fate that summer day. Some felt the effects of young, uncaring hunger, and were carelessly and playfully strewn about, exposed to the elements in disregard, while others were devoured in slow surgical appreciation by larger beings, chewed on, savored, then dropped to the ground all the same.
The reality was that all became mush, and fell back to the Earth come picnic-time.
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