It
is unknown how Thornton Excelsior obtained the peach that destroyed the world
by flooding it with juice. He simply doesn’t remember; the catastrophe was so
immensely unexpected that it wiped his memory clean. He sat on his porch on a
rocking chair and bit into the flesh of the fruit. And that was that.
Once the restraining skin of the peach was broached,
the juice inside exploded outwards. The pressure of the spurting liquid
jettisoned the fruit out of his grasp and it soared over the horizon and into
the sea. The waves lapped themselves like cats made of milk. If he hadn’t been
sitting on a rocking chair the recoil would have killed him.
The juice spread across the surface of the ocean.
Already the slick was larger than a province, a state, a federation. Thornton
was aghast; it’s not something that I recommend, being aghast, but you are
welcome to try for yourselves. Sweet sticky juice rising inexorably, pouring
over dykes and into flood plains. Inundation!
Presidents, kings and generals pointed the finger at
him. They made an extra long finger by welding iron tubes together and poked
him with it. He recoiled and hid under a table; but the steadily rising liquid
forced him up the stairs and finally into his attic. The hollow finger followed
him. Then it spoke; a voice vibrated out of it.
“Thornton, old son, don’t worry about a thing. Those
presidents, kings and generals are superfluous and will come to a sticky end.
But I have taken a fancy to you; and I will save you. I command you to build an
ark, a vessel that can sail the tide of juice and keep you alive until the
crisis is over; but this ark mustn’t be made of wood or fibreglass or other
conventional shipbuilding materials. To surf a global juice surge, only one
substance is proper: planks of frozen clotted cream! Do you hearken to me,
Thornton Excelsior?”
“Yes, yes! But who are you?”
“I am Zesto, the God of Fruit. Do what I command and
all will be well. After forty days, give or take a month, the juice will recede
and the ark will settle on solid ground. Then you may rebuild civilisation from
scratch, or if not from scratch from itch. You may also found a religion in my
name.”
“Must I take one pair of every beast?”
“Animals on a ship made of clotted cream… Don’t be
silly!”
Thornton constructed his ark and it floated on the
juice without sinking. The voice that lived in the tube never came back, not
even when there was a violent storm. But Rosie O’Gassy said, “What the hell am
I doing in this paragraph? I’ve never even existed as a character before.” And
Thornton Excelsior answered with a smile:
“You don’t expect me to save humanity on my own?”
He was the first of the dessert fathers. His ark
went rancid a long time ago, so there’s no point looking for it; but I won’t
stop you if you insist. And Zesto put a giant banana in the sky to symbolise
his promise that the world would never again be drowned in juice. There’s a pot
of yoghurt at the end of it, supposedly.
As for the presidents, kings and generals: they were
impeached.
