The Juicy Pear
	I can’t understand why anybody wouldn’t like pears.  I take a juicy bite and wonder what my life would be like if I didn’t have pears.  It might very likely be just the same, but in the five minutes it takes to eat this pear, everything is just peachy.  It’s an ironic a choice of a word to describe a pear.  My mother uses it often.  Everyday when she gets home from work.  She’ll tell me "today was just peachy."
	So anyway, I’m biting into this peachy pear.  It’s really the perfect type of pear, the perfect ripeness.  It’s got a nice, yellow glow.  I feel like a vampire as I bite into it, my teeth have become razors and the skin of the fruit is torn against them.  I prey on my victim, savouring every juicy bite.
	I’ve never smoked a cigarette before, but I’m sure the taste of this pear to me is as fulfilling as an addict with their smoke.  The core of the piece of fruit is appearing, and I realise this will be one of my last bites, I close my eyes as the liquid seeps down my throat.
	I open my eyes and toss the core into a nearby wastebasket.  I examine my surroundings.  A school, a hall of lockers.  The faces all around me, waiting, to prey on my glowing yellow skin.  It all rushes back to me.  
	I’ve become a pear.  I let myself become victim to their addiction, feeding their purpose.  My glow slowly vanishes with every razor sharp bite as they devour my richness, right down to my very core.  I sit and whimper in the wastebasket with all the other toss-aways.  My remains rot there pathetically.  
	I trudge home through the wet snow.  The cold stings my face and it becomes numb.  I opened the door into the warmth of my house.  I throw down my bags and hurry to the fireplace.  I rub my hands together beside it as my mother asks me how my day was.  I sigh and grin softly through my exhaustion, "today was just peachy."