Tomatoes, Somewhat humorous and angsty Options

[muffingirlsays]

Tomatoes

It wasn’t by accident. It was more like some bizzaro supernatural power, or something.

I had stuck my hand in the fridge, hoping for a pear, an apple, or an orange…but I got a tomato instead.

I just stared at it for a while, my mind replaying a few old memories; the ones that I wanted to forget… But this round, spherical red globe of…vegetable, fruit, or whatever it was stared back at me, forcing the memories back into my head.

Not to insult anyone, or announce that I have a problem with tomatoes and its army of tomato-defending lovers, but…I hate them.

Nothing personal, it’s just that…my dad loved to eat ‘em. I don’t know why, but…he always ate them whenever he got the chance. Er, no, I don’t have anything against my dad, but… Oh, I don’t know…

Another reason I hate tomatoes is also since I was eating one when my parents told me about it. That incident left me traumatized, I guess, and it made me try and forget everything that was missing whenever I was with either parent. I did forget about that thing until…now…

The vegetable/fruit stared at me with its glossy red skin, and dark emerald-green stem and leaf. It was taunting me, sneering at my unhappiness and discomfort.

After it happened, I was forced to live with two separate people, once every few years. One from which I inherited my light hair, eyes and kind nature, and the other from which I inherited my sex, cheerful disposition and sense of humor.

I’m packing to visit my dad now; one of the tomato-defending lovers, in Japan. I was going to grab a pear, and apple, or even an orange. Instead, I got this…thing.

“Max, are you ready? We don’t have all day! And close the fridge, you’re letting all the cold air out.”

My mother walked in, struggling with an earring. Once she finally had it on she gave me an exasperated look, a rare act. Then her eyes fell on the tomato. Her clear baby-blue eyes softened and she sighed. “Oh honey,” she said soothingly. She cleared her throat and tossed me a weak smile. “Hurry up,” she said softly, but firmly, and turned on her heel, leaving.

I closed the fridge and heard it click.

I looked at the sneering red vegetable/fruit in my hand and glared at it. I brought the vile object to my face and slowly, I lowered it to my mouth. I took a bite and grimaced as the weird half unfamiliar, half familiar taste entered my mouth. I gave the thing a look of dispair and tossed it in the trash. I opened the fridge and grabbed something else. I pulled my hand out and froze. Another glossy red globe sneered at me.

“Max! We have a plane to catch!”

Like I said before, I hate tomatoes.

[mocassinsx29]

Puahaha, when I finished the story I saw an ad at the bottom with bunches of tomatoes and the title "An American Tradition Since 1876" slapped across the center. Anywaaayyyysss...

I love the description, "red globe." Your style of writing is just so luring, even if the story wasn't interesting, I'd want to read more, it reminds me of J.K. Rowling. The story itself is kind of puzzling, or you could call it mysterious. Does the person hate tomatoes because her parents told her they were divorcing when she was eating one? [Or is it a him? >_>] Anyways, keep writing, I love it.