Pounded by Produce

by G.M. Fairy

The land of opportunity exists in the crisp corners of a freshly printed newspaper, tucked away in the help wanted section, where every ad promises the world and delivers.

“Have you seen my hairbrush?” Laurent yells across the field from the back kitchen door. I whip my attention to him as he rushes toward me, all legs and arms flailing behind his tall form. I shake my head when he’s still several paces away. He sulks, looking up at the clouds and screaming, “Oh, where is my hairbrush!”

“Oh, Barabara Manatez, you are the one for me!” I exclaim, wrapping the old woman into a friendly hug.

When I return my gaze to the woman, I startle. She stands right before me, eyes glued to mine. “Tonight is the Harvest Moon, where spirits come to play. All that is hidden will be brought to light. You two need a transformation. It’s up to you both to define the true fruits of your soul.”

I can withstand temptation—no matter how hard. And right now, I’m definitely hard.

She’s not holding a tiny version of me. She’s holding a cucumber. A fucking cucumber. I’m a cucumber. It’s almost too ridiculous to be a dream, but it has to be because what the fuck?

“Everybody wants a water buffalo. Yours is mean, but mine is a kind fellow. Oh, where would you find one? I don't know, but everybody wants a water buffalo.”

Their love story seems poetic and tragic—like Achilles and Patroclus but adding me to the mix makes it seem like some corny smut novel. Maybe

I definitely shouldn't have gotten tangled up with two priests who turn into sexual vegetables whenever they’re in my presence, but this is the way my life has panned out.

He’s not running away this time. I can feel it. We’re no longer priests. Just men—men who sometimes turn into vegetables, but not now.

I eye her skeptically. She seems like a freaky little woman.

“I don’t know,” she goes on. “I’ve witnessed so much life that everything seems even more confusing. The more I see, the less I know. I liked religion growing up because it gave me answers, but it no longer seems that way. Maybe I like religion just for the familiarity, to feel like I belong. I think that would be enough for me, just following the motions. I just don’t think it’s enough to judge or condemn others for living their truth instead of believing other people’s wishful thinking.”