Apple Picking

It is currently 11:45 on Saturday night.  That means I have 8.25 hours until I am forced to go apple picking with my family.  Apparently my father thinks that our family is falling apart, so in order to make us closer he gathers up these horrible plans to keep up together.  Last week we did “family movie night” where we all gathered around the TV and
watched The Lake House which caused me to cry for 2 and a half hours due to the lack of ass kicking by Keanu Reeves.  But I would have rather watched Thomas The Tank Engine Rides Again than go apple picking.

The agreement was that our family either goes to church, or apple picking.  This was a tough choice between sitting bored in a cold wooden pew surrounded by bibles and hymne books, or standing in a cold wooden forest surrounded by apples and annoying families.

We’ve all been there, and we’ve all had to go apple picking.  When you all pile into the car tired and hungry (you skipped breakfast hoping it would give you a 20 minute edge on the competition) and you drive for hours and hours to a different country where your parents claim they have “the best apple you’ll ever eat.”  As you drive you stare out the window to the passing grocery stores, wondering to yourself why you don’t just pull over and get apples there.

After the 28 hour drive, you reach your destination: An open field that could have been used for a mall or icecream palor, but was instead turned into an apple orchard.  Where signs like “SALE SALE SALE” and “Shoes Half Price!” should be hanging, there are signs (written in sharpie) that say “Get Lost In The Hedge Maze!” and “Apples –> This Way.”  You and your brother find the only seat you can: a wooden fence, as your dad stands in line to pay.  You take a few laps around him reminding him that “for 40 dollars we could just have gone to Stop and Shop” but you don’t stay around him for long because there is generally a crying baby behind you.  The famiy of this baby thought it would be enjoyable to carry around

  • Their 70 pound baby
  • 50 pounds of baby supplies
  • 10 pound stroller
  • 20 pounds of apples
  • Helen Keller

This total of 150 pounds (270 if you count Helen) is enough to make any sane man forget the idea of picking, but not only does that family pursue, your family files right behind them, and your entire day is wasted picking apples, eating apples, juggling apples, and getting diarrhea.

The only fun part about apple picking is after you’ve gathered all your food and you decide to go to the hedge maze.  For the small price of your first child you can run around a huge garden for hours, laughing at lost children and constantly giving false information.

Lost Family– Excuse me, we appear to be lost, where did you just come from?
Me– Oh yeah, I uhh.  I just came from that way (points to the proper trail)
Lost Family– And what was down there?
Me– Let’s just say I’m now scared of hairspray.

When you finally reach your destination, you are greeted by a sign that reads

Congratulations, you just wasted 45 hours wandering around, you’ve just won 100,000 dollars.  Just kidding, you don’t get anything.  Good job though.

When you’re done with the apple picking and the hedge maze, there’s really only one thing left to do:  Complain.  You dad has able to pick up a brochure and is trying to find a new “fun” activity, while you pull on his pant leg and bitch about how your feet hurt.  You are finally able to convince him to leave when you inform him that his daughter just fed her caramel apple to the goat, and you guys all pack up and go home.

As you get home your clumsy sister manages to drop the entire bag full of apples, and your wasted day is suddenly transformed into a wasted day with no apple pie.

It is said that Helen Kellers first real word was “apple.”  But this, my friends, is a false statement issued out by the government to teach kids that a) apples heal you, and b) retarted people can actually speak. In fact, Helen Keller’s first word was “Ghuurrrrchhcssaaaaaaa.”


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