Ode to Stone Fruit

Procrastination is my middle name. I must love punishment, feeling the anguish of having to do something that needs to be done soon, but time is left to settle back and say, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Like take, for instance, fulfilling one’s obligation for the upcoming Income Tax Day in the US, April 15th, a little over three days away. I’m saving the dirty deed for Monday, giving me a buffer of one day to send out the filled-out income-tax forms. I do it every year. It’s a tradition. Spring wouldn’t be initially the same without the high anxiety felt for filing federal and state taxes.

Old age could be a scarey thing, to be left out in the elements, to become once again a part of the food chain, to have one’s skin torn off into shreds by ravenous birds, to be eaten and replanted as excrement on someone’s car which was just washed.

Such is life for poor, old Stone Fruit. Remember him? His final existence in a semi-petrified form, having been in the refrigerator since February 12, 2014, is due to become a tasty treat for the birds or squirrels, living in my neighborhood, to be placed out on my balcony tomorrow to see how long it takes for him to decompose and become one with the universal pool of elemental components.

photo of science project, grapefruit in refrigerator.

Stone Fruit

Still debonaire, wouldn’t you say? He almost looks like he belongs in the fridge forever. That’s how long it seems like it would take for him to rot away.

He’s living, or make that existing in suspended animation, totally on borrowed time.

The initial stage of this Nobel Prize-winning science project, the morbid biological study of decomposition in which Stone Fruit is my rock-hard test subject, was scheduled to turn into phase two, transferred outside to face inevitable destruction, on the one-year anniversary of his introduction into the scholarly inquest; but due partially to my procrastinative nature ( I know, there’s no such word as “procrastinative,” yet it sounds so right) which to my discredit is based on laziness, our hero is still smiling in the Frigidaire. Another reason for his stay of execution was my waiting for above-freezing weather.

So, when I awaken on Sunday, Stone will be transferred out onto the balcony, above which lives a family of sparrows. I’ve yet to photograph any young for this season, peeking out from the bottom of my upstairs neighbor’s terrace; however, here’s a shot from last spring:

Sparrow Chicks from 2014

Sparrow Chicks from 2014

And then I found this hapless creature one morning, his dangling on my screen door out to the balcony and getting pecked on the head by angry inhabitants from the bird-condo above:

Young Squirrel, Lost in Space

Young Squirrel: Dazed and Confused

So, needless to say, methinks Stone won’t be lasting long out there. It will be interesting to see exactly what will happen. An update on the progress of this outstanding investigation will be coming forthright, as photos and details present themselves.

I almost hate to put Stone Fruit out to meet his maker, but unfortunately, it has to be done. OK, the most logical way to dispose of this orb would be to throw him out with the garbage, but the aforementioned method seems more appropriate, fulfilling the grapefruit’s destiny to finally be eaten.

This journal entry, which should have been posted by midnight that just passed, is late from my procrastination as well. Better late than never is another good excuse. Thanks for stopping by and for your continual support.

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About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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