A Peachy Tale

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“Eh—hey. Hey. Hey, Mitch! Wake up, man! That sunrise over yonder is quite a beauty.”

“Go back to sleep, Arnie,” I mumbled.

“Nah, man. You really gotta see this. Just sway a little to the left, okay?”

“Humph.” To say the least, Arnie is an inquisitive, obnoxious, and persistent peach, a little like that peach who spent loads of time with James. Albeit, I’ve only come across a few, but let me tell you, this one’s got personality. P-E-R-S-O-N-A-L-I-T-Y. He usually hollers to me at the most inconvenient moments, too. I try not to respond, but he just rambles on. Take the other day, for example, I was gazing down at this passerby. He had his fist clenched around the handle of some fancy briefcase. Perfection radiated from this handle. I mean it was as though the leather had never been touched before. Anyway, this guy stopped right below me and then whipped out his camera. It was one of those fancy ones in a soft case. A Nikon, Canon, or something like that.* Anyway, Arnie chose just that moment to tell me about this finch that got too close to his gal. His gal? He started to recount how this bird landed on a nearby branch and wandered down, searching for the perfect peach. Let me tell you, there are a whole lot of pretty peaches out there, but Arnie ain’t one to date. So, being a good friend and all, I tried to let Arnie know. As usual, he flashed back a smirk.

Meanwhile, the passerby with his fancy camera and fancy briefcase took the picture. All I can remember is the blinding flash from below. “Great,” I thought to myself. That guy will probably go sell it as a postcard that some tourist, who just happens to be infatuated with this island, will buy. A cluster of peaches, with the backdrop of a summer village, always looks quite nice. But, living next to Arnie and enduring the cold nights of winter, takes the ‘ideal’ out of ‘idealistic.’ That’s right, ideal. I-D-E-A-L. This place attracts lovers, fugitives, and dreamers. If I were a human (thank goodness I’m not), I wouldn’t be any one of those. I actually wouldn’t live here, and I sure wouldn’t live anywhere near Arnie. I mean that’s what I call ideal.

“Mitch. I’m dead serious. Look right now at those colors up there or you gonna miss it.”

“Arnie. I’m dead serious. At five thirty in the morning, I’m not gonna to talk to you, so please just shut those eyes and mouth.”

“Oh really?! How do you plan on making me do that?” Arnie stammered.

“I’ll call out to the finch. He got your ‘gal’ and he sure could get you.”

There was silence then. Arnie wasn’t one to be quiet, but I liked it. Maybe another man can walk by with a camera and snap all this beauty up. Heck, at least Mitch and I have called it quits to arguing. There ain’t no place more beautiful than this when the sun has just risen and the peaches aren’t at it again. Is it beautiful? Oh yes. Just like a P-O-S-T-C-A-R-D.





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