I braced myself for the weight of the enormous pale green orb, as he handed it to me. There's this old cartoon, where so -n- so blows up a pair of balloons, paints them black, sticks them on the ends of a broom handle, and invites a muscle man to pump some iron.
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They say you can't look a gift grapefruit in the mouth. (grape fruits don't have mouths) Plus, gifts always make me feel flattered, almost as much as winks do. So I said thank you very much, and showed my enthusiasm by peeling right into it.
It was like digging a hole in a styrofoam ball, I wasn't getting anywhere, so I went to the kitchen to get a knife. I cut it into wedges, and started gnawing away. It was bad, but also good, and definitely exotic, like eating a juicy piece of wood. After eating Tim's grapefruit, I am convinced that size matters. I have eaten countless smaller grapefruits that were sweeter and of superior texture, but the grapefruit that will forever be etched in my memory, is the one that Tim gave to me.
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