I like them heavily freckled....spotted to a state worthy of a dermatologist's notice and a tanning bed's warning. I want them to be slimy and gooey, and not wanting for teeth. I want the winged bugs to be circling like vultures, their mouths drooling and their eyes reflecting voluptuous hearts. If I'm going to eat one, I want it to be an overripe banana, darn it.

This weekend, as Debbie placed an all too-yellow bunch of them in the fruit basket, I looked at them longingly, daydreaming of their state in a week's time. As if she had the ability to read minds, or at the very least translate the body language of lip-licking, my dear aunt piped up, "They're yours as soon as they go brown."

I feel very loved here...very cherished, and very grateful for the decayed food reserved in my name. You should all be so fortunate.