I kinda stand up straight like a roman emperor after grocery day.
Looking upon my vast and frigid kingdom in a box, the landscape of my gastronomically seductive empire comprises colors that delight the eyes and jump start the belly with all its prismatic glory. There’s water filled fluorescent fruits dotting the shelves hither and thither. There’s enoki, maitake, and whatever the pre-sliced mushrooms are called in the drawers below. Baby spinach leaves and bags of kale and collard greens look up at me anxiously – knowing a boiling bath awaits them. But, lo! (I forget what that phrase means, but I feel like it might be something Shakespeare said before drinking poison with Juliette Roberts because she was a blood. And he was a crip. And she was a hooker.)
But lo! Yonder, just there!
Just in the center sits the gem! The magic lamp! The golden calf! The tree of life from that one Hugh Jackman movie that squirts jizz reminiscent of the icing in which they drown Cinnabon confections.
It is… the durian.
My lover. My comfort.
And now I allow you to take the journey with me of our torrid love affair…
1. Buy frozen durian.
My spikey Aphrodite sits patiently awaiting. Her fruits kept locked behind the chastity belt of a thick and thorny cloak. Her majesty came to me frozen and in despair. Could I break her down right now? I could… I’ve done this with past loves, but it always goes too quickly and we both end up hurt.
2. Let durian thaw.
So, like the kind and gentle ruler I am trying to be, I vow to display empathy and patience as I allow her some time. Her apprehensions and fears of being in a strange land should melt away in a day or two.
Then, I can test the waters.
I can make contact – a gentle, flirtatious touch. A press to her lower back, to show my protective and affectionate nature. Is she receptive?
3. Press durian to see if it’s soft enough to cut yet
I think she is…
I prefer to bed the wife I’ve taken outside of the bedroom; somewhere strange – like the kitchen or balcony – surrounded in a sea of my most luxurious towels, as I’m hoping she’s not been conquered before. Somewhere unexpected will be both arousing for me and distracting enough in its novelty for her to ease the pain of being broken.
4. Cut durian in a wide open place so remnants don’t get caught and stink up your kitchen. Outside may be better. Use a big bath towel to facilitate clean up
And why wait for night when I can have her feminine musk upon me all day?
5. Remember, the durian has an odor!
Nay, I shall surprise her with my morningwood of metal, while we’re both bright and alert. I want her fully aware of the experience. And why waste the opiating rush that will result from the efforts of her undoing for nightfall? Why be half-asleep when we can ride the sexual elixir through the day like a steed made of serotonin?
6. Don’t be deterred by the odor, though! Some say this fruit’s an aphrodisiac!
Indeed, as I lay her down, I can tell she’s reverted to a mild version of her former fear. As is common for virgin maidens, she scratches me. Part of it is a show of defense, but most of it’s just a show – she doesn’t wish to seem too eager for the impending penetration. I pull out protection – chainmail (in case she scratches).
Oh, and also an anachronistic condom (in case she has the clap).
7. Use gloves to avoid “durian kisses”
But I won’t be stopped. I couldn’t if I wanted to. The lizard-like primal ape is already stewing within me like a ravenous and relentless twister. I am a gladiator. I am Sparta. I am Beowulf here to pillage Grendel as our grundels perform a manic mosh pit dance, only to leave one another bruised and disoriented. She takes some time – between my own adrenaline and all of those billowy skirts, I can’t be certain which curtain is hiding her fleshy fruits.
8. Make sure to get the seam of the durian pod before cutting – so you don’t cut into the fruit, but between it. And definitely don’t do this:
I probe one crevice.
Ew. No that’s not the right one at all…
Ah! AHA! I’ve found it. She gasps a little as my gleaming weapon teases the crack in her – a line I stole from a Bjork song. I’m not permitted full entry on the first attempt though. I readjust my grip on her haunches, take a deep breath and try again. After a few strokes, she surrenders… and a wave of endorphins overcomes me as only a fruit fuhrer can know…
I am in. She is open.
And I feel open too.
My inner ubermensch is dancing.
9. Pry it open!
Despite our mutual initial anxieties, we celebrate our maiden voyage into the flesh as man and wife with several more episodes of the same … once I’ve regained the strength to dazzle her again.
10. Get all of the pods! There’re usually four sections
To show her I’m grateful, I next draw a hot bath of oils and incense.
And then I take the bath myself.
After beheading her like queens past and throwing her corpse in the trash.
11. Clean up – both the remnants and your body or you’ll turn a lot of noses!
Regrets?
Yes, I’ve a few. My sexual thrills overtook me. I never could keep a wife for long enough to bear my heir. But I intend to change my way. For example, I’ve long dreamt of building a tower for my next conquest to live in while my seed beguiles her ovaries into manifesting a miniature replica of me.
Curses! What witchcraft is this?! Another female?!
Throw it away.
Burn them.
Burn them all.
12. Keep the seeds! They’re edible and delicious! I keep mine in the freezer (less stinky – especially if you don’t plan to use them right away) and nuke em up or boil them later.
*drops character*
Sidebar on the aphrodisiac part… That experience is subjective, apparently, but most people who get past the smell (or don’t mind it) at least find some good feeling that comes with eating it. I actually didn’t realize it was supposed to make you feel anything until I ate my first sexy pod pillow. Five giant bites in, I gleefully asked the caterpillar reading Ulysses next to me, “Does this have drugs in it?”
And he assured me it was-
Well, actually he just stole it for an opium pillow without answering me.
Dick.
But the interwebzs says it’s all legit. #reasonenoughforme