Dear Deece Fruit Czars,
Each morning, I anxiously await the selection of fruit that awaits me in that beautiful middle food station island of the Deece. The array of fruits never fails to impress me. The curation is wonderful: a seemingly endless supply of some of the most popular fruits. From pears to apples and everything seedy to the exceptionally moist berries, you guys have outdone yourselves. It would be remiss if I forgot to mention the melon section! It is great how you do not discriminate against your melons. You are right, honeydews and cantaloupes should get equal representation. Even though honeydew is the much less popular melon, it has its own charm, and you have taught me that. Thank you for extending our Vassar education beyond the classroom and into the dining hall. But enough of the pleasantries! I am here to discuss the heartless incident of false advertising I experienced.
I will set the scene. After having my fill of my usual breakfast of Cheerios with raisins and a hearty side of—you guessed it—fruit, I decided to stop by the bowls by the exits. To my delight, my eyes rested on some wonderful, perfectly orange spheres. “Oranges!” I thought to myself with glee. I eagerly picked one up to put on my desk to eat while I FaceTimed with my parents. An hour later, I was back in my dorm, my parents on the phone with bated breath to hear my “orange” review. I began peeling the happy little orange-thing, but I was surprised when a strange odor emitted from it. “It doesn’t smell like an orange,” I reported to my parents, growing more apprehensive of the fruit in my hand each passing second. The conversation went on, and I absentmindedly continued to peel back the “orange” peel, paying little mind to the peculiar odor. When I looked down at my hands, I saw the gravity of the situation. An orange, but with reddish flesh, was in my hands. I felt betrayal like I had never felt before. My poor parents could not do anything but stare at their only son trying to rationalize the treachery before him. They were just as shocked as me to see the evil cousin of the orange in their son’s hands. “This has to be an orange; oranges are the eighth most commonly eaten fruit according to the International Fresh Produce Association [fun fact!]. It’s just miscolored! There is no reason for the Deece Fruit Czars to go out of their way to delude the simple fruit lovers into eating a non-top-20 fruit!” I foolishly thought. In a last ditch effort to prove this fruit’s innocence, I put a wedge into my mouth. The flavor that filled my mouth was putrid beyond comprehension. A wave of unpleasantness flooded my taste buds, the acidity too much to bear. Tears in my eyes, I resigned myself to finish the rest of the grapefruit. This was the consequence of my fruit-popularity-statistics-guided ignorance. The experience was all too overwhelming. I dare say it was worse than eating a deceptively perfect, bright red and firm-to-the-touch apple that turns out to be mealy. After I endured consuming the grapefruit, I decided to dedicate the rest of my life to protesting false advertising, that I should tell anyone and everyone about the potential perfidy of the Deece fruit bowls.
I would also like to file a grievance against your coworkers, the Sweets Magnates, because it has been too long since I have gotten my hands on one of those delicious chocolate chip cookies. I should end with an acknowledgement of my own hyperbole. Orangegate was completely my fault; keep it up, Deece Fruit Czars. Sweets, I would still love to see some chocolate chip cookies.
Much love,
Eli