Another week and another short story you’re OBLIGATED to read under The Equality Act 2010 (this is a lie, there’s no obligation, but we’re shaming you into it anyway).
Here’s the sad story of a smashed avocado. As tasty as these lovely little fruits are, from time to time some of them can develop a significant drinking problem.
The good news is there are support systems out there to help them through the hardest of times.
Confessions of a Smashed Avocado (how fruits can sober up)
Synopsis: The sad story of a smashed avocado. This poor fruit has had one too many and is a little worse for wear, which is why it attends an Avocados Anonymous meeting to sort its life out. Good on it!
Cast:
- Andrew the avocado 🥑
- The chair of proceedings 🥑🪑
- Avocado Anonymous members 🥑🥑🥑🥑🥑🥑
And a quick note on the part names for this fruit: exocarp (peel), mesocarp (pulp), endocarp (the seed in the middle).
It was after Andrew the avocado came to in a pool of his own mesocarp that he knew. He knew he had to attend Avocados Anonymous. He was a smashed avocado and this wasn’t the way he wanted to live his life.
Waking up with no memory of anything, covered in green gunk, and surrounded by traffic cones. He wasn’t a student. He wasn’t a no-good deadbeat bum. He was supposed to be a high-flying CEO at his business Staccato Ltd., selling really top-quality office furniture (such as swivel chairs).
He was a self-made multi-millionaire! But the drinking had kicked in to cope with the stress of ensuring those swivel chairs were the best possible quality. It takes its toll on an avocado. His escape was through a bottle of eggnog. At least a pint of the stuff a night.
That had to end! And so he headed off to his nearest Avocados Anonymous meeting, set at 4pm in a church a few miles from his local pub.
The First Avocados Anonymous Meeting
The friendly chair of proceedings introduces Andrew to the Avocados Anonymous regulars. They all politely wave as they sit around in a concentric circle on rickety plastic chairs so rigid in their structure. Andrew could sense a sales pitch, but using all his business savvy he knew now wasn’t quite the right time for hustle.
“Sorry about the cold!” Half-joked the chair of the meeting, “This church’s radiators are a bit on the slow side, let me know if your endocarp starts shivering. Haha!”
The group chuckled in feeble unison.
After a round of introductions from everyone, Andrew is asked to stand up and tell his tragic story of personal strife.
“Hello. I’m Andrew and I’m a smashed avocado… it’s tough when you say it like that, you know? I’m a high-achiever in the real world and don’t like taking my exocarp off the peddle. But lately I’ve been waking up covered in my own mesocarp…”
There was a murmur of agreement from the other avocados.
“… and surrounded by loads of traffic cones…”
Another murmur of agreement from the other avocados.
“… and I don’t even know where I get them from! There are no roadworks near my home right now. Anyway, it’s important to address this and get myself sober. I’ve got a business to run and I need total concentration.”
The chair of proceedings asks Andrew about the nature of his business.
Seizing the moment like an early bird catching the worm, Andrew launches into a long and rambling sales pitch about top-quality swivel chairs (and other office essentials) for small and medium-sized businesses to benefit from enormously. At the end of this sublime speech, Andrew realises now is the time to drop his hustle.
“These chairs you’ve got here are no good, they’ll make you all ill. Rigid plastic like this will dent your exocarp, mush up your mesocarp, and rot your endocarp. Your lives are all in danger!”
There was a murmur of panic from the avocados, which the chair of proceedings set out to quell instantly.
“Andrew… this is an Avocados Anonymous meeting. It isn’t a sales pitch. Please refrain from upselling, or cross-selling, any of your products with us.”
“You’re the chair of proceedings saying that!? You can’t be comfortable on that thing, you need a proper swivel chair with all the bells and whistles…”
“Andrew, the chairs are provided by…”
“I don’t care who provides them, mine are better! At Staccato Ltd. we offer top-quality swivel chairs with a fully rotational base, with ease of three-sixty degree pivoting guaranteed, high-structured back arcs universally catering for all exocarps, and…”
“Andrew, please…”
“And all at cheap, cheap prices! For a limited time offer, you can buy three and get your fourth chair COMPLETELY FREE!”
At this point, Andrew leaps onto his chair and launches into a dramatic, shouting hustle (his erratic behaviour surging along thanks to his pounding hangover).
“THAT’S RIGHT! COMPLETELY FREE! And that includes down payments at an APR that’s affordable for even the laziest of bastards…”
“Thank you, Andrew! We’ll consider the offer.” Blurts out the chair of proceedings, forcing himself aggressively into the ranting of this annoying new member.
“I’ll drink to that!” Quips Andrew, although the groan from the other avocados suggests his joke has fallen flat.
An awkward silence follows.
Andrew sits himself back on his seat, a smug grin on his face as he basks in the knowledge of his entrepreneurial brilliance. He can see a big haul of income from his capacity to seize the moment and sell, sell, sell.
The chair of proceedings turns to an elderly avocado and asks questions.
“Okay, Derek, would you like to continue where you left off from last week? How are things? You mentioned you’ve not had any eggnog in months and you and your wife are using the money saved to go on holiday to Brighton for the weekend.”
“That’s very true. But having heard Andrew’s story I must say I think the money will be better spent purchasing new swivel chairs for my living room, kitchen, dining room, and study.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the other avocados.
Jackpot!!!!
“AND ALL AT CHEAP, CHEAP PRICES!!! Here, read my pamphlets!” Andrew was back in there and even cracks out his hip flask, saved for emergencies, to take a long slug of eggnog to revel in the moment.
Having lost control of the meeting, the chair of proceedings yearns for a drink. Andrew senses this and and offers his hip flask, the chair gladly takes it to slug down the remaining eggnog goodness.
Andrew smiles to himself. He is an excellent salesavocado and a shining light in the world of office-based SME furniture supplies.
The Moral of the Story
After taking many orders for top-quality swivel chairs, Andrew led all the Avocado Anonymous members out on a rave.
That night was merry and chaotic as the avocados hit the town. Much eggnog was consumed. Much too much.
Everyone was so drunk no one could tell their endocarps from their exocarps! As far as Andrew was concerned, it was all good… harmless… fun!
The next day, he came to covered in his own mesocarp. And there were traffic cones everywhere once more.
“Not this again!?” he thought to himself in alarm, lifting a hand to his exocarp to grimace from the exocarpache. He realised he needed to join Avocados Anonymous… but he had vague memories of doing that the previous day. Isn’t that what he’d done!?
He checked his notebook diary.
Andrew’s endocarp almost dropped out of him in shock! In his diary, dating back over the last six months, he’d attended 32 AA meetings. And then he realised, in his Machiavellian ways, he’d been using the sessions to dupe unsuspecting halfwits out of their money in the name of top-quality swivel chairs!
But he felt no shame over his actions.
He simply knew his bank account spoke loudly of his successes, even despite of his drunken excesses. Andrew would have smirked, but as a wave of nausea swept over him he puked up another batch of mesocarp.
“More like mesocrap then mesocarp!” He quipped, wittily. Then he got up and went to get some more eggnog.
