Rotten Mangoes

Like it or the summer is here to stay and with it comes the disgusting summer heat. But the only thing worse than the stinking, scorching summer heat is a crate of rotten mangoes. Especially when you’ve paid more money for it than you would pay a hooker for a blowjob.

It really is a disgusting feeling, to be sitting in this killing heat, paying attention to the sweat trickling down your back and feeling in general like some dirty farm animal. It is in times like these that your mind battles its urges to use the nearest rope and fan to rid yourself off your suffering by thinking of the most pleasurable thing at hand: The crate of mangoes you bought from that persistent fruitwala for a sum of money that could make your grandparent’s heart attack them.

So in a move that will make all the sweating and sweltering in this heat worth it, you open the crate. Inside are sitting big, juicy mangoes, all nice and yellow on the outside, lying seductively on their bed of hay. You reach out your lusty hands and grab two of the finest and give them a gentle squeeze. And to your disgust they squash in your hands and a dirty smell oozes out of them as if the mangoes had farted.

You think its a one off incident. So what if two mangoes were rotten you still have a whole crate left, you think. So you pull out two more and dump them on a plate. Then you fetch a knife and then with the love of a plastic surgeon operating on Pamela anderson’s breasts, you nicely cut the mangoes up. You lovingly pick one peice up. your mouth is watering like a cloud on a rainy day. You take a bite. And your taste buds suddenly roll over and die. The thing tastes worse than a dead rat. If you were a crow you might even have enjoyed it but alas you aren’t.(are you?)

You slowly realise that the persistent fruitwala made a sucker out of you. All the magoes on top are rotten, like fish caught from a pond which is used as dumping site for industrial waste. You suddenly realise that there are only 12 mangoes on top, when it is a box of 24. You frantically throw around the straw to find the remaining 12 mangoes, but there are none! Suddenly you find a note at the bottom of the crate, “ENJOY THE MANGOES! SUCKER!- WITH LOVE, YOUR FRUITWALA” and then you finally decide to use the rope and the fan.

By Editor Man