Oranges Suck

by Blaze Bateh

I’ve never liked oranges. They were never one of the fruits my mom had in the kitchen when I was growing up. That was the first red flag. Also they are a tease because I feel like the amount of energy I expend on trying to eat them, surpasses the enjoyment and nourishment I’m left with when I’m done. They are sticky, acidic, and I don’t feel like I’m actually eating anything, rather just chewing on juice.

They do have one redeeming quality however. They can give me the primal ripping, tearing, and biting fix that I need to punctuate days of sitting in front of a computer screen clicking a mouse.

Today I am holding a Valencia orange. The name comes from the coastal city in Spain where the oranges originated. The skin from the orange is waxy, beaten and scarred. It is already showing signs of aging; its orange glow is marred with brown gashes and large pores like the face of an old sailor. It isn’t the most inviting of fruits, but I decide to commence. Who knows, perhaps this will be the orange to change me.

I dig my nails into the flesh. It puts up a fight but I ultimately sink in. I pull back a tiny chunk. This orange is making me work harder than usual. It isn’t peeling easily and I’m getting chunks under my fingernails. I don’t feel in charge, it’s not giving me the primal rush I was after. I decide to press on in order to appease my masculinity.

The thick white rind below the surface resembles the fat insulation of an animal. Unlike the slimy fat, however, the rind is dull and ruthlessly clings to the fruit, proving to be yet another obstacle in my pursuit for nourishment. I pull back the rind and finally clear a spot of wet orange fruit to bite. If this were an apple then I would be finished, full and happy by now.

I sink in. I feel the fruit tearing against my teeth; it sounds like muted fireworks, perhaps a celebration for the work I have put in thus far. The sweet juice flows into my mouth and is surprisingly less acidic than I had assumed. It tastes better than the other two oranges I’ve had. I take another bite. Damn, this is actually pretty good. My table and arms are covered in juice. I ignore it and take another bite. My face is now drenched, and I’ve just bitten into a seed. That does it. I throw down the sloppy carcass. I quit.

My hands are sticky; I’m frustrated, hungry and I feel like a quiter. Oranges are the worst. Although I must say, if you do like oranges, I can see why Valencia oranges have such a good reputation. It almost had me. Almost.