Pineapple
So its a quiet Wednesday evening, around 8.50pm and I think to myself…. something is wrong. Something is definately not right here yet I could not think what it was. It wasn’t that I had no clothes on. It wasn’t that I was listening to Peter Andre’s Mysterious Girl on infinite loop in Windows Media Player. No, it wasn’t even that I was trawling eBay for Justin Bieber posters. It finally dawned on me.
I didn’t have a pineapple.
The realisation of my lack of pineapple chilled me to the core. I called several close friends and family and told them not to be alarmed. Not to panic. Everything was going to be ok. It was so disturbing in fact, that I had to rectify the situation. Right there and then.
I jumped in my car (after putting some clothes on), and headed for the local ASDA, hoping and praying that they had pineapples. They did…
For £1!
I was in luck, so I picked up my pineapple and all was good. It was beautiful, from Costa Rica and was sweet and juicy. So the label said.
All was good until I became complacent. The pineapple took advantage. First it was little things here and there, like using my computer when I went to get some food (with even worse taste in music than me!)
but then I went for a shower and came back to find this
“Using my headphones?! Drinking my cider!?”
I’d had enough and I tried to drag the pineapple off the bed and show the business end of a fruit knife but in doing so, it tripped me over and smashed me over the head with the cider bottle and ran off.
I haven’t got a pineapple anymore.