1.12 - Pineapples

Hello listeners. It is midnight in the mountains once again and I, Julian Glass, am here to placate your nocturnal souls.

[intro]

Listeners, I just had the best pineapple. And it’s fresh! Geordi Norris, soybean farmer, has decided to branch out and become a pineapple farmer as well! He just harvested his first crop, and I bought some today at Kroger. I advise you all to buy some as well, if you’re into pineapple.

I suppose it is time to venture around town.

Elderly Juniper Solo slices up a pineapple, eating an occasional piece as she chops. As she finishes cutting up the fruit, she looks up to see an apparition before her. In the form of her deceased sister. Juniper gasps, nearly dropping the knife still in her hand. “Poppy?” she whispers. The ghost walks up to the counter, pulls out a stool, sits. And smiles.

Chloe Holloway, owner of the thrift store Felonious Fashions, is busy whittling stones she can throw at passersby.

Dr. Hope Seymour at the urgent care clinic takes a piece of chocolate from a coworker’s desk. It feels like stealing, even though said coworker has made it clear that the chocolate is for anyone. It feels like stealing, but Dr. Seymour eats it anyway. She feels she needs it, after the night she’s had thus far. I hope your night improves, Dr. Seymour.

The salesman stops by the animal shelter and is greeted by one of the workers there, Alton Davis.

Sophia Barnes sits in her living room watching The Princess Bride, snacking on some fresh pineapple. She begins to think about Buttercup’s womanhood, comparing it to her own. Slowly she realizes what she feels where a sense of gender “should” be is not womanhood. She’s not a man, is she? She doesn’t feel like one, she doesn’t think. Does that make her nonbinary? Genderqueer? What is this? Don’t worry, Sophia. You’ll figure it out. Probably. I still haven’t though, so… Hm. That’s probably not reassuring to hear. Oops.

Oh, someone is calling me. It’s Fenna van der Berg, journalist for the Daily Dispatch. I should take this. Meanwhile, here is a prerecorded word from our sponsor.

There is a crevice in your wall. One that was not there mere hours ago. It had started as a chip of paint and grown into a crack that then yawned into a fissure that you are now studying apprehensively. A warm breeze that smells faintly of sulfur wafts out of the crevice. Hell, you think. Then, volcano is probably more likely. Either way, danger. Does that danger excite you? Or intimidate you? Use our lights to explore that rift in your wall. Or, if you prefer, use our power tools to build a barrier over it. DeWalt.

I’m back, listeners. I just spoke to Fenna, who was huddling in her closet to hide from the specter of her long-deceased grandfather. “I was just eating some of Geordi Norris’ pineapple, and then he materialized in front of me,” she said of her grandpa. “I am also beginning to question whether I am actually a woman, and I have no idea what brought that on. I just started questioning. How does anyone deal with this? With either of these things?”

I don’t know, Fenna. I don’t know.

Then she told me that she is getting calls from family and friends across town who are also seeing ghosts. None have mentioned questioning their gender, but few tend to do that anyway.

I asked what all these people were doing when they suddenly began seeing ghosts.

“Eating Geordi Norris’ fresh pineapple,” Fenna told me.

Listeners, I urge you not to eat any more of Geordi Norris’ pineapple. Unless you want to see specters of the dead, or question your identity.

I know for certain I will eat no more of the fruit; I don’t want to see… [clears throat] I suppose that brings me into another topic of import. More people have gone missing all over town, bringing the total up to 26 gone. Missing Persons Investigator Syd Jones says ze has not yet found a connection between the disappearances, but that ze is treating them like they are related. If you have any information regarding the missing people, please contact Investigator Syd Jones at number [loud humming].

[interlude]

Listeners, I believe it is time for an editorial. [whistles random notes] This has been a Mercy Mountain Radio editorial.

Let’s take another look around town. The town council, who was listening to my broadcast up until a minute ago, have barricaded themselves in their death-proof bunker, hoping that will stop the ghosts from appearing to them. Jordan Engel, one member of town council, is crying softly, hoping desperately that they did not come out as nonbinary just to have to come out as cisgender down the road. Jordan Engel, a fellow member of town council, comforts the first Jordan Engel as best he can as he screws his eyes shut so he does not have to see any apparitions, or anything else he does not want to see. Jordan Engel, the oldest member of town council, suddenly shrieks. Everyone else whips around, but sees nothing. Jordan Engel points shakily to the air in front of her. “It’s…my dead husband,” she whispers. Tears rush down her face.

In response to these events, Mayor Stephanie Vaughn has recommended to the town council that they ban all pineapple from being sold, bought, or consumed in Mercy Mountain. Town council took her recommendation and turned it into law, effective immediately.

Firefighters are fighting the problem, as they do, with fire. They are collecting all the pineapple in town and throwing it into a blazing conflagration they set up in Wander Park.

The side effects from eating the pineapples are already fading for some of the earlier consumers, leaving them more appreciative and aware of gender and mortality.

Listeners, I have to admit, I am relieved that the pineapple seemed to have no effect on me. I was already questioning my gender, and, well, I suppose no ghost wanted to visit me. I can only hope that Shinji did not come because they are not dead.

On that note, stay tuned next for the sound of juicy fruit being thrown into hungry flames. Have a wonderful rest of your night, Mercy Mountain.