Short Lit Challenge #2: Grapefruit

Grapefruit

Essay Format Entry

I like eating grapefruit, but it's definitely an acquired taste. No one else in my family is able to stand them. After some consideration I think I know why.

Grapefruit isn't just a piece of citrus; it's the perfect physical representation of a certain time of a certain kind of day. It's a little slice of that early, early morning, when the sun is just rising, the grass is steaming, it's wet and chilly, at least compared to the day ahead. There's a sharp, unpleasant quality to the light that slants through the atmosphere, like it's been strained of all its warmth and the only thing left is the bitter acknowledgment that yes, it's another day, and no, you can't stay in bed. Oh, how you want to stay in bed. It's warm there, and dark and quiet, and outside everything is sharp as a razor, but digs into you with serrated teeth. Nasty, unpleasant, and above all persistent; it won't let you go. Sure, some people can cover it with coffee, though that's never been an option for me. Other people, and this is the eternal mystery, actually enjoy this time of the day, soak it in through their pores, let it fuel them like some dark satanic power. Personally I think they might be demons.

There's no such thing as a 'morning person'. That's absurd. As you get older, at least with some people, you gravitate toward waking up earlier. It's natural, I suppose. But even so, I doubt you can like the early morning if your sanity is intact. I don't believe in souls per se, but if you can honestly find the sight of harsh sunrise light glinting off of cold concrete as the drones of the world slouch off toward their morale-destroying day of drudgery appealing, then you don't just lack a soul, you have a gaping, yawning abyssal void at the center of your being, and I wouldn't trust you with sharp objects as long as my back is turned. Fucking freak.

Back to the grapefruit though. I think the reason I like grapefruit is that they sum up that period of the day, its awful, seething power and cold calculated rage, in a handy ingestible form. I can soak up the energy, the bitterness, the acid caustic attack on the senses a little bit a time. Sharpen up, toughen up, take in the vitamins and ride out the hatred all of nature and God's kingdom feels for me, and then plow on. It's easier to cope; it's an amount of Morning that I can wrap my brain around, literally sink my teeth into.

Grapefruit is man's way of making the awful Morning his bitch. So whereas I have to huddle in warm darkness, avoiding the awful stink of a new day until a more human, more humane hour, I can seek my revenge upon the accursed daystar and its cheerful early rising minions by tearing their pulpy analogue's flesh to ribbons and grinding it down my gullet.

It's a good thing.