Fruit of the Loom

This past weekend, I was privy to a deluge of emotions, experiences, and extended metaphors, not the least of which was the chance rendezvous with a buddhist monk’s canine companion. I’ll let that specific situation remain elusive, as I wouldn’t want to be accused of recklessly endangering the otherwise hallowed perception of wanton bestiality, suffice it to say that Buddha’s beads were rocked harder than my sister breasts on prom night.

Okay, enough of that shit: not a post goes by in which I fail to drudge up some faintly tainted memory of revelry that is as nonsensical to you as it is intrinsical to me, and that’s really not what I’m about, at least not until some unknown, forthcoming paragraph. I’m here because I want to talk about fruit, and just how it can alter one’s perception of leisurely activities. If strawberries can enhance a sexual encounter, would it not stand to reason that, say, a mango could, inversely, ruin that same hypothetical affair? ( I suppose that would be a post for Kermo to tackle, so just consider this a prefatory exercise.)

Last Friday, we had a company outing or, as management prefers to phrase it, a Membership Training opportunity. For those precious few individuals that are unaware of what such training entails, I shall elucidate. Coworkers gather and commence to eat, drink, travel, sleep, sing, and visit a Buddhist temple together. Things weren’t as neatly delineated as proposed, but you get the idea, as long as you insert plenty of awkward silence, arguing, and ridiculous photography.

Not everyone joined in the festivities, however, and that is a sure-fire indication of disloyalty, one that is to be dealt with swiftly, and severely! Not in the mood? Too bad, you’re off the team! What’s that? You’d like to offer an excuse? It matters not, but lie to me anyway. Righteous! I love stories!

Work concluded for the evening, and we were led, albeit slowly, and without any particularly reassuring sense of accuracy, toward our first destination of the long (long) night, a stock Korean barbecue restaurant, replete with all the pork, tofu, kimchi, and vegetables a teacher could indulge in without a tinge of remorse. That we took a good twenty minutes to locate the eatery is of no consequence, as we had as much time as we wished to achieve optimum corpulence.
There were a good number of teachers -about ten in our group- in attendance, and after taking off our shoes in enforced unison, we commenced to nudge our way onto our respective, pillowy seating arrangement. What each person did, what they ate, and where they sat is a bit too intense for me to get into at the moment, so let’s narrow it down to three core characters that, henceforth, shall be known as Gavõn, Francesca (a Korean English teacher, if the name didn't tip you off), and yours truly, KMart, with a special appearance by Matt as random whitey.

And without further ado, I present you with the greatest story ever told.


Gavõn: (struggling) Can we move this table, or what? My legs aren’t supposed to bend this way.

KMart: (sitting at an adjacent table, next to Gavõn) I get a half-eaten bowl of rice all to myself?

R.W. Matt: (sitting kitty-cornered to Gavõn) I think we can move the table an inch or two, if that helps, just as long as we start cooking the meat immediately.

Francesca: (sitting across from Gavõn) I like mushrooms.

Nearby Voice: Mushrooms are very healthy for you. They give you stamina.

KMart: That’s great, as you know how much I need stamina. Pass the slab of tofu, please.

Gavõn: So Francesca, you’re not going to Daecheon Beach with us tonight?

Francesca: Yes, I’m not coming. I told you already. You don’t remember?

Gavõn: Well, I do remember, but I still wanted to ask.

R.W. Matt: I’m not going either.

Gavõn: (to R.W. Matt) I know that too, but that’s just because you don’t give a fuck about membership training. I don’t know why Fran isn’t going.

Francesca: I told you. I hate Daecheon.

Gavõn: You hate Daecheon Beach, the home of Mudfest? (Glancing toward the boss) Who wants to get some beers?

Nearby Voice: Yes, let’s get some beer, but drink quickly. We have to leave in twenty minutes.

KMart: Won’t that leave us with three minutes to eat all the cooked meat?

Gavõn: Hey, lady! Makju dugeyo, right here! Wait, make that seygeyo.

Francesca: Yes, I hate Daecheon. I will tell you why I hate it now.

Gavõn: Yeah, sure.

R.W. Matt: (drinking from a bottle of soju that he brought in his pocket) Do it, Francesca.

KMart: Just as long as I don’t have to eat another one of these goddamn mushrooms, I’m down with it.

Francesca: Many years ago, when I was in university, my friend Suji and I went to Daecheon Beach for our holiday. It was very pretty at that time of year, during the summer. It wasn’t very hot, and there was a cool breeze in the air. We spent a lot of time in our motel room, watching television and sharing stories about our other friends. We had many friends that were getting married, so we had to come to Daecheon Beach by ourselves, but that was not bad, because we liked to talk, and Daecheon Beach was so nice that summer, so we wanted to go.

KMart: (thinking about the Killers’ sophomore effort, Sam’s Town, while looking at another teacher) Don’t you wanna feel my bones on your bones? Hey, that tofu isn’t gonna get any browner, you know.

Francesca: We walked down to the beach in the afternoon, and we were eating grapes from a plastic bag. They were delicious, and Suji told me that the grapes reminded her of university life. I understood what she meant, because they were so sweet, but we both knew that the end of our schooling was very close, and that our lives would change drastically.

Gavõn: (finishing his first bottle of Hite) Right. How many grapes were in the bag?

R.W. Matt: (a piece of seafood in his mouth, with a tentacle drooping out from his lips) Thirty-six?

Francesca: There were many, but we had to be careful not to eat too much. They had to last the entire day. When we got to the beach, we sat down on the sand and talked to three nice men for a while. They were from Incheon, and they were going to the military soon, so we talked about our dreams for the future. I feel as if we shared a special moment.

Gavõn: That’s cool. What were their names?

Francesca: I didn’t ask. Suji held hands with one of them, so she may know. I have many pictures at home, if you would like to see them.

KMart: Please no... not you Francesca, as I’d love to see those pictures. Julie is trying to order more onions, but we only have five minutes to finish our feast. Listen, Julie, if you want something stinky to munch on...

Gavõn: (finishing his second bottle of Hite) Bring ‘em in, Fran. So what happened with those guys?

Francesca: They left. Another woman came to get them, and she was wearing a two-piece bathing suit, so they went with her. Suji and I were very angry, but the ocean was so wonderful that we had hope that another group of men to share a bond with would come. We ate some more grapes, and then we dug a hole in the sand so that our grapes would be safe. We put the grapes in the hole and covered it with sand, so nothing would contaminate them.

R.W. Matt: Except for the sand.

Francesca: Yes. We then went swimming. The waves were so delightful, and the water so fresh, that we forgot all about the end of our university days and the men with whom we shared our greatest hopes and deepest fears. Our married friends would have been so jealous of our ocean experience. After about an hour, we thought it best to return to our motel, so that we could prepare to watch our favorite drama shows. We came back to our towels, and we were so hungry, so Suji and I dug up our grapes. But the grapes were gone. Someone had taken our grapes.

-awkward silence ensues for roughly thirty seconds-

Gavõn: (verbalizing the thoughts of our collective, foreign mind) So what happened then?

Francesca: Our grapes were stolen, and I hate Daecheon Beach because of it. I’ll never go back.

-another bout of silence-

KMart:(setting his chopsticks down, and looking Gavõn in the eyes) I don’t think we should take any chances with our grapes.

R.W. Matt: (finishing his bottle of soju) I...need to go to the bathroom...or something...

Gavõn:(after chugging his third Hite) Wow. Francesca, that was the greatest story I’ve ever heard. Really, that was fantastic.

The End.

Well, perhaps it wasn't the end, per se, but after a story like that, everything else would just be a letdown.



Clubber Lang