The Original, Original Sin: The Pear

Yeah, and I didn’t fall to far from that Holy tree. See, Apple gets all this damn credit and for what, to make Adam do wrong? See, I am like the apple, in that I create a tart, fresh taste, yet unlike it, because I do not tempt. Go to the grocery store. What do you usually pick out first: an apple or a pear? I know. Trust me, whoever cast the apple in the Good Book got it all wrong. After all these years, I am still ticked off and madder than Hell. And, I am still shunned today by my fellow buddies. I am not popular because of that unimaginable gaffe. I’ve had numerous talks with my promotion manager, the Passion Fruit, and he, to this day, admits no wrong doing. He knows it’s true; he upstaged me for Apple. Bastard! Too bad for him because he’s unheard of nowadays. Ever eaten Passion Fruit? Didn’t think so. A-thank you.

Back to the matter at hand, I ushered the Apple into the limelight (there is no pun here). Apple will deny this. As always, Apple thinks it can, after I showed it the yellowed, brick road, leave me for stardom. That line of thinking is just bananas and it has left me and it’s not fair. I will not idle. I compare me to what happened to the Olsen twins, mind you I wasn’t that successful – nowhere close. See, they’d been doing there thing since their inception. Then, they finally turn of age, ripen and kaboom! Who steals their spot: Hill Duff and Linds Lohan! Just as I ripen with good lucks and nutritional value, Apple gets rich.

At times my outside grows old, turns brown and my inside core harden–eat me! That bitter taste is my payback. In the apple of my eye, I cannot leave this feud alone; it must be dealt with, the people need to know! If I have to throw Salt in Apple’s eyes, then I will. I resort to any measures possible. The Apple’s robust marketing is debilitating. Look at how we are used: Apple juice v Pear Juice; Apple Pie v Pear Tartlet; Apple Sauce v Pear Sauce. How can I compete? Apple has thrown me under.

Nobody likes me. Nobody knows even me.

When I’m at me A-game, I don’t have crunch; I soothe with my sweet, succulent, soft appealing taste. I melt in your mouth. That is the sin I was told I could commit. My appeal is not at all tempting, it’s alluring, an understated malevolence.