Why I loathe peaches.

I may or may not participate in Flash Fiction Friday but after reading Spinning Girl's entry about Peaches, it brought back a wonderful little tale about why I loathe, absolutely detest, peaches, especially fresh peaches. The rules include the word Fiction, and this is mainly autobiographical, but screw it, here it is anyway.

I had no desire to move to the country, except for two things. One, I was getting away from the middle school I was attending and despised. Two, my parents promised me a new waterbed, which I thought was the coolest invention since television. After setting up my new waterbed, and getting my bedroom to look similar to my old one, providing a little comfort, I decided to survey my new yard.

It was huge. There was an old tree, with winding limbs, that would provide a wonderful place to climb, or build a treehouse if my parents would allow it. There was a spot where my parents said we were going to build a pool, and never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever have had my own pool. And to top it off, one of the few family traditions that my parents actually let seep into our lives was homemade ice cream, and there were peach trees with beautiful peaches hanging from the branches and a few actually already on the ground. I was a picky eater early in my life, and while I would never consider eating a fresh peach, I would eat the heck out of peach ice cream.

The only thing missing from this new life my parents were trying to create, was a new friend. And after a few bike rides through the new small neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, I decided that my new friend would have to be a dog. Luckily, unknown to me at the time, my parents had been claiming that the move was to benefit me, but was really to benefit them more. So the guilt of moving me had provided me the new waterbed, the plans for the pool, and after some pleading, moping, and eventually some tears, their guilt provided me a dog. How could they say no, especially after I found a dog in the paper, featured by the local humane society, who needed a home and was the cutest dog I had ever seen?

My parents though, did try to trick me a little, they agreed to let me get that particular dog, the one featured in the paper, but if that dog, who had the unfortunate name of "Muffy", was already adopted, I could not get another dog right now. The ones in the paper are obviously the cuter dogs, as the Human Society wants to get people to visit, but my twelve year old mind didn't know that, and I knew that Muffy, despite the name, was meant to be my dog.

We headed to the Human Society, and despite the nice lady trying to get us to look at numerous other dogs, I played like Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka, and declared my intention on adopting Muffy. Not only because of my parent's declaration, but like I mentioned, Muffy was my dog, why else would I have even spotted her in the paper, when I normally only read the comics?

The lady took us to look at, and then play with Muffy. My spirits were crushed when the lady explained that someone had already put papers in for her, and the only way I would be able to get Muffy was if the other people didn't pass the application (which hardly ever happens) or if they decided they didn't want her (how could they not want Muffy?)

While I was playing with Muffy, my dad snuck off to call home and let my mom know they were off the hook, someone already had papers in on Muffy. To my amazement, and I am sure to my parents' dismay, the people who applied for Muffy didn't actually have a yard (one of their requirements) and got declined, while we were there. This started the quick process to get Muffy home to me, where she belonged.

Her area of the yard was quickly laid out, a dog house put into place, and coincidentally, it was right underneath the peach tree area. Which, initially, made for a lovely area for the dog, and for me to play with her.

Then reality set in for me. Of course, other than playing with her, feeding and watering her, my duties also included cleaning up her poop. She was a good sized dog, kind of terrier looking, but big, and she pooped a lot. I had only experienced small dogs in my long twelve years of life, so Muffy's huge piles of poop were quite alarming. I was actually worried she was sick, and drug my mother out one day to examine the piles to ensure she was okay.

As children do, I made a few friends, we got the pool, school started, and more. All of which decreased the time I had to clean up Muffy's crap. Events, unknown to me at the time, prevented my parents from making a lot of peach ice cream, and since the peach trees hung over our property and weren't really ours, no one seemed too inclined to pick the peaches, or pick up the ones that had fallen to the ground. Fallen into Muffy's area of the yard.

One evening, an unusually cool breeze blew into my bedroom window. At first, the smell of peaches blew in, making me crave the home made ice cream we hadn't made in a while. The peaches had started to rot though, which is another smell altogether. Then, the distinct smell of Muffy's crap blew into the window. It was the last time I could differentiate between the two smells. I started to clean it up, but a storm blew in, making me close the windows, and forget the smell.

Until the next morning. My mom was fixing a piece of toast, with peach jelly, and I smelled crap. Well, I smelled peaches and crap. Later in life, anytime someone mentioned peaches and cream, I heard peaches and crap. I had to go clean up Muffy's area, which now contained not only crap, but also rotting peaches, and it was all soaked together due to the rain. After a week or so of cleaning up rotting peaches and crap, I begged to move Muffy's area to another part of the yard, but due to the plans for the pool, there were no other options.

It doesn't matter which individual smell I come across now. It can be crap, peaches, or rotting peaches, but it all comes into my brain as rotting peaches and crap. I can't even smell a freshly picked peach, and this would last long into my life.

Later, in one of my parents' last ditch attempts at doing something as a family, they pulled out the icecream maker and asked me to go get some peaches.

I suggested vanilla.