I found this poor bastard rotting away in my kitchen in the middle of summer. I was living in a desert at the time. He had a couple chunks cut out of his decomposing stomach. A swarm of juice thirsty vampire fruit flies were upon him. Deaths stagnate breath was in the air.
I decided to paint him in his final hours. He kept pleading me to just eat him already, and let him die a somewhat dignified death. I ignored his plea. I said, “I will not eat you, you will make me sick, instead I will paint you, and you will live on in my art as a hero, forever!” He however didn’t think that was a very good idea. He spent his last moments calling me a selfish asshole, and swatting the fruit flies away with his spindly pear arms.
Some nights when I go to bed I can still hear his little raspy pear voice. “Eaaaaaaaaaaaat meeeeeee!”
I know one thing for sure, that pear sure had a pair! He did actually, huge pear balls. They were the only thing he didn’t mind me painting. In fact he said quit clearly in plain pear speak”Paint my goddamn pear balls!” It actually got really weird. Out of respect for Mr.Pear I will not go into further detail.
Who knows maybe that’s how I will go out.