This fruit basket came over for dinner the other day. It was nice, charming, like most fruit baskets I've met, but I noticed that the base of it was beets. I had never seen beets in a fruit basket before. I knew that it had something to do with the union and beet's rights or BEETA or something, but this was strange. They looked good. Dark red, almost black. They all winked at me whenever I glanced down at them. It was freaky, but I liked it. We never got to the dinner part because the fruit basket would not shut up. It just babbled about dirt and hydrogen and the sun and all this crap that I had already read on its OkCupid page. So midnight struck and the basket said that it had to leave. Its cab had arrived. (I didn't even see it call a cab. Maybe one of the beets had done it. Who knows.) So the basket left. We didn't even hug good-bye. I just opened the door and watched it leave. I was not calling the motherfucker back.
Usually I take a bubble bath after my guests leave, so I did that. My cat got me this really cool bubble bath bubble machine that continuously makes bubbles in your bath so that it never ends (it's really cool, it can make different shapes of bubbles and different colors of bubbles and all this fancy stuff. I dunno, I haven't read the manual). So I'm there, soaking in soap clouds when the door to my bathroom cracked open and one of the beets rolled in. It was magical. The beet was about the size of my fist and it was eager to jump in the bathtub. I could tell. I watched as it did so and then swam close to me. I began to float and the beet jumped on top of my belly. We just lay there then, for about half an hour.
I don't know what impulse came over me, I-I hadn't eaten a beet in years, but their sweet iron-y taste still came to me in dreams. I popped my stomach, made the beet fly, and like a skilled bro flicking cereal into his mouth, I caught the beet, and swallowed the whole thing. It was delicious. That's probably what the beet wanted in the first place. Why else would it have left the fruit basket behind and then bathed with me? At least from the books that I had read, that's what that sort of behavior means in beet culture.
As I digested the beet my bath timer went off. Bath was over. I
turned the bubbles machine off, got out of the bath tub and jumped in my
comfiest robe. I heard a knock on the door. What a surprise; guests
at three in the morning. Sure, why not? I headed to the door and
cracked it open with the security chain on. It was the fruit basket.
It looked a little distraught, and with an apologetic tone asked me if
it had, by any chance, left something behind at my place. A red burp
escaped me because I had been laying down for the past two hours and I
stood up too fast, and then I lied. Nothing had been left behind,
sorry. The basked accepted this, ignoring my purple teeth, then turned
around and jumped back in a cab. I felt bad for all the cab fair that
the poor thing was giving up for nothing, but I didn't care. That
basket sucked at conversation anyway, but the beet was delicious. I
craved more. Maybe I would invite it over again. Probably not though.
We'll see. Right now I need to finish digesting this beautiful
monster. You know what's really fun when you eat a lot of beets? It
makes you pee purple. Who doesn't love purple pee?!
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