Make Mine Mike

I refuse to let those squirrels get the best of me.

Our avocado tree is old and doesn't bear much fruit anymore. And what few avocados do grow on the branches immediately get stolen by those sneaky furry-tailed rodents, Hamas and Fatah. It pisses me off because those two bickering sons of bitches don't even enjoy the avocados -- they usually gnaw away at the buds long before they get ripe. I often find green tiny premature half-chewed pieces on the ground. This causes me to go off on seemingly Zionist rants as I look upward and yell "Hell with you, Hamas! Fuck you, Fatah!"

Sometimes an avocado does fall from the tree, but it's once in a blue moon I get to get my home-grown guacamole on. But on one particular day, I looked up and saw a big fat avocado hanging from a branch on the tree. I was delirious with excitement. This lone dark green -- almost deliciously black -- fruit had made it to maturity without getting abducted.

I couldn't let this scrumptious Persea americana fall into the greedy paws of Sciurus griseus. But this Homo sapien hadn't evolved into any kind of tree-climbing species, or one tall enough to reach up that damn high.

Ahh, but I gots me some smarts. My superior brain told me to go around the side of the house to get the handyman's ladder. It was a bit cumbersome, but I managed. I placed it up against the side of the house. The avocado was still too high. No problem. I knew where there was this old plucking device, attached on a pole with a string/pulley thing to work the contraption. Granted, it was old and rusty, but it'd do the trick.

Even though I was high enough on the creaky ladder with this broken-down implement, and began to wonder if it was worth risking breaking my neck to get something I could buy for a buck -- five for four dollars -- at the supermarket.

Yes. I was on a mission, dammit. I had to outdo the squirrels.

But I still couldn't get the avocado off the branch. No matter how I reached and tried to work the tool, it felt more like a pathetic piñata party. I got down from the ladder and considered asking the landlady in the apartment adjacent/above if I could come in and use the rusty plucking device from her upstairs window...

Alas, she wasn't home.

I admitted defeat. Frustrated, I went out for a bit... but when I came back...

The avocado was on the ground. It had fallen while I was out. Looked like it finally ripened. Either that, or I musta loosened it.

I made sure to let this thing get nice and dark and soft before eating it outside, relishing each spoonful with a loud mmmmm for the whole neighborhood -- and all of nature -- to hear.

The next night, I was sitting by my window, and I heard a noise. I thought I recognized that sound -- the thud of an avocado falling. Like I said, it didn't happen often, but hey, maybe this summer was a good season for this crop. And for me.

I went outside by the patio, searching in the dark, unable to figure out where this avocado was, if it existed at all. Then my foot lightly tapped something. I looked down, and there was that distinct dark oblong object -- another avocado. I was even more excited.

Haha, Hamas, Fatah, I thought. Too late again.

I brought the avocado inside and got a better look. There were marks in the skin and flesh of the fruit -- marks made by gnawing buck teeth... attached to a spiteful little furry-tailed bastard.