The Avocado

Hey man I did not know they liked vichyssoise got a great recipe calls for poached avocado it’s hot outside but it’s cold in here pick up a lime pinch of salt vichy! vichy! hey man what is this? did you squeeze it like I told you to? does it look mauve to you? that is not an avocado that is a rock you could play baseball with that now where we gonna get another avocado at this hour and do you know how hot it is outside? I promised them a cold poached avocado they’re getting a moist tennis shoe the avocado waited until the purples and blues faded from the light the clamor of voices had ascended to the bedroom buried in muffled hushes the avocado wished the couple well but it wouldn't be sitting idly by waiting for the inevitable cutting mashing smashing mincing skinning pitting even whipping these mutilations it was all too familiar with having grown up with the culinary terms batted lazily about like shuttlecocks but poaching? it would have stoically submitted to those other sentences but would not be brought low in a slow simmer as a bonus this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to leap from a great height a feat avoided at all costs by the other mature avocados it had ever known without a second more of hesitation the avocado began barreling towards the edge past the lime past the salt past the jalapeno the tomatoes and potatoes end over end and then into the silent kitchen air for a moment the avocado imagined itself a game-winning grand slam sailing over the heads of its adoring fans sticking the landing right on its pointy end it cleared the back door (left open by its purchasers in their haste) in one bounce and rolled out to the dry desert air and a new life its still-green skin glistening in the moon