A story about a nice pear, who deals with racism. As told to my friend, who, incidentally, is 22.
once upon a time, there was a pear named Miguel
he was sad, as he was a different color than most pears, being blue
he wasn’t sad because he was blue, but nonetheless he found it difficult to communicate with the other pears because of his color
yes, even pears can be racist
he tried to change his color, painting himself green or gold, but whenever it rained he would be back to blue
one day, a little boy came to his tree and picked him out
he brought him home, and his parents were amazed
he was paraded in town, in museums, appearing (ha) in all the newspapers
all the fame really got to his head, inflating his ego
until, one day, he overheard the boy’s parents talk about selling him to a Chinese emperor. he didn’t like this idea, because he had grown quite fond of the boy. so he contrived a plan to roll under the boy’s bed and hide
so he did.
all manner of adventures happened there. he had to escape mice, evil dust bunnies, and the occasional casually discarded shoe
life was tough sometimes, but he loved it nonetheless as he was close to his little boy.
one day, when looking for one of his kicks, the boy reached under the bed and brought out the blue pear. a big grin stretched across his face, fondly, and he gently placed the blue pear in the compost heap that his parents had started collecting for, to be green for their garden
a year or two later, a tree sprouted up. it grew and grew, and when the first fruits came out, all of the pears were blue