Extras: Everything's Coming Up Apples

It really is peculiar, almost too coincidental, to realize how frequently apples are infiltrating my last couple of days. During fiction writing, Prof. Danforth used "Apples" as a prompt for our written exercise. The chapter we discussed for the day, "Tulips," appealed to me as, unfortunately, a typical episode of Desperate Housewives, which I think Danforth took an offense to. I'm sorry. But realize that the ABC dramedy always uses apples in their advertising. A symbol.

Today, I revisited the scene of Snow White biting off the infamous apple that led to her presumably eternal slumber. Guilty of playing Kingdom Hearts again.

Later during the evening, while I was at the homecoming parade for UNL, a participant passed me, surprise, an apple. A really good looking one at that. Not glorious ruby red, but the kind you know will end inside the grocery basket when you leave the market. Now, I can't eat apples. My brittle teeth would crack like an eggshell if I did. But I also have a... distrust of apples. I blame a friend of mine, who told me about a movie where slugs lived inside apples and all the unfortunate victims who ate these apples died a gory death, which, I fortunately never got a chance to view. But that image of slugs just oozing out from a small crack, a bite out of the apple, cemented the adverse reaction I have towards apples every time I see one. If I have to eat them, I'd make sure I sliced them so thinly, that even the most anorexic of slugs couldn't hide in.

I gave away that apple to my roomie. For one thing, I know he likes apples. The other thing is, really, well, I don't eat apples. But somehow, I always imagined how it would be like to crunch on the ideal apple. Of course, it had to have that "khhaaaoo-whoop" sound when I bite off the side. Sweet flavor exploding upon contact with my tastebuds, twitching a little at that tint of sourness. Such joys escape me. It really is, the forbidden fruit of my life.