It's time once again to peel back the skin of the orange that is our society and deeply examine the pulp inside.* I made a trip earlier this evening to buy some of life's essentials (frozen pizza and oven chips) and encountered a one of the world's finest characters. What makes him tick? Let's try to find out...
*It may only be February, but I think we have a good candidate for "Worst Metaphor of the Year." Congratulations, Derek! We'll see you on the red carpet.
The guy who confuses covert martial artists and fruit
Quick, what is your favorite type of apple? Gala? Granny Smith? Golden Delicious? Jonathan? McIntosh? Ninja?
Wait, Ninja?
Yes, according to the gentleman in front of me in the checkout line, he was purchasing a Ninja apple.
The consumer - middle-aged, portly, and astoundingly confused - was buying little of consequence. Typically, someone like this would not linger in my mind hour afterward, but everything took a turn when the cashier held up the apple the guy was purchasing to determine what type it was. With her spindly fingers holding the fruit just in front of her wearied face, she tossed out a guess.
"Gala?"
Alas, the hefty man shook his head. The guess was off the mark.
Thinking, the man looked toward the ground. He seemed to be mentally spelunking into the deepest crevices of his mind, searching valiantly for the name of the apple he hoped to purchase.
Some might argue that an apple is an apple; that if you have to put that much thought into what specific type of fruit your purchasing, it's really not worth arguing about. After all, he could have lied. He could have called the apple Gala, paid for it, and had his teeth down to the core by now... Instead, he thought.
Finally, as if the good Lord had shone the light of wisdom on him through the market's fluorescent lamps, the man looked up. Confidently, he looked at the cashier and said, "It's the Japanese one. You know, a Ninja."
It was at this time I took a subtle step backward. I've seen movies. I know what ninjas are capable of. They're silent assassins. Though I was fairly confident an apple could not be a ninja (nor a ninja an apple), I approached the situation with caution, just in case. Luckily, before the type of store-wide panic that could only come from the threat of an apple attack could set in, the cashier cleared things up. "Do you mean a Fuji, sir?"
"Aw, yeah. That's it."
Crisis resolved.
With his apple bagged and the rest of his groceries paid for, as well, the man walked out the market doors. It was with much regret that he escaped before I could ask him pressing questions. Questions like, "What made you think Ninja was a kind of apple?" "Haven't you ever heard of the Teenage Mutant Ninja (not apple) Turtles?" and "Why the heck are you only buying one apple, anyway?"
Apparently, some of life's mysteries will never be solved.
*It may only be February, but I think we have a good candidate for "Worst Metaphor of the Year." Congratulations, Derek! We'll see you on the red carpet.
The guy who confuses covert martial artists and fruit
Quick, what is your favorite type of apple? Gala? Granny Smith? Golden Delicious? Jonathan? McIntosh? Ninja?
Wait, Ninja?
Yes, according to the gentleman in front of me in the checkout line, he was purchasing a Ninja apple.
The consumer - middle-aged, portly, and astoundingly confused - was buying little of consequence. Typically, someone like this would not linger in my mind hour afterward, but everything took a turn when the cashier held up the apple the guy was purchasing to determine what type it was. With her spindly fingers holding the fruit just in front of her wearied face, she tossed out a guess.
"Gala?"
Alas, the hefty man shook his head. The guess was off the mark.
Thinking, the man looked toward the ground. He seemed to be mentally spelunking into the deepest crevices of his mind, searching valiantly for the name of the apple he hoped to purchase.
Some might argue that an apple is an apple; that if you have to put that much thought into what specific type of fruit your purchasing, it's really not worth arguing about. After all, he could have lied. He could have called the apple Gala, paid for it, and had his teeth down to the core by now... Instead, he thought.
Finally, as if the good Lord had shone the light of wisdom on him through the market's fluorescent lamps, the man looked up. Confidently, he looked at the cashier and said, "It's the Japanese one. You know, a Ninja."
It was at this time I took a subtle step backward. I've seen movies. I know what ninjas are capable of. They're silent assassins. Though I was fairly confident an apple could not be a ninja (nor a ninja an apple), I approached the situation with caution, just in case. Luckily, before the type of store-wide panic that could only come from the threat of an apple attack could set in, the cashier cleared things up. "Do you mean a Fuji, sir?"
"Aw, yeah. That's it."
Crisis resolved.
With his apple bagged and the rest of his groceries paid for, as well, the man walked out the market doors. It was with much regret that he escaped before I could ask him pressing questions. Questions like, "What made you think Ninja was a kind of apple?" "Haven't you ever heard of the Teenage Mutant Ninja (not apple) Turtles?" and "Why the heck are you only buying one apple, anyway?"
Apparently, some of life's mysteries will never be solved.
1 comment:
Nope, it wasn't a party apple..... or a tasty apple..... or a sweet little old lady apple...... or a RC alum playing defense for the Chiefs apple..... it was a Japanese apple!
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