Pineapple on Canvas: The Odd Adventures of a Toy in the City

The one about the little Pineapple named Papple

He rocked back and forth slowly, careful not to make too much noise. He was very conscious of the crinkling sound made by the brown paper beneath his feet. He looked up to inspect the view, the same one he'd seen for the past three years—a boring white ceiling, smooth and flat.

He stopped rocking and got up on the tippy toes of his two little feet, round orbs of orange that resembled tiny tangerines, to see if perhaps today was the day he would be able to peer over the sides of the brown paper walls that surrounded him. Unfortunately, due to the stubbiness of his legs, the only effect this had was to have the tips of his bright green spikes peek up beyond the confines of the bag.

Pineapple listened intently for a while but did not hear the voice of Maher, whom he hadn't seen in what he believed was three years, nor the voice of Ella, whose voice he had only first heard about six months ago. Although, truth be told, he didn't have much of a sense of time so these estimates could have been wildly incorrect.

The little toy hadn't really minded his solitary existence, alone in a brown paper bag in the corner of a bachelor pad somewhere in New York City, but for some reason, the minute he heard Ella's voice, an undeniable swelling of his heart began to build and had manifested itself in a very unbearable manner. He imagined it must be the way a puppy feels when it isn't sure if it's beloved master will ever return home.

He remembered the first time he saw Maher, in the gift shop of an airport lounge, where Maher had, after picking up a pack of gum and a bottle of water, reached over and plucked Pineapple from a crowded shelf. Beaming with pride, Pineapple barely had time to wave goodbye to his friends, several other stuffed toys of a similar shape but varying colors, before he had been stuffed unceremoniously into the very same bag he had now become oh so familiar with.

As Pineapple's memory of that day was not entirely clear, the excitement of the moment having blurred his best attempts at recollection, he could not say for certain what exactly happened next, but he did believe he had heard Maher say something to the extent of "It'll be the perfect gift for my eight year old nephew," which was received with an unenthusiastic "uh huh" from the clerk behind the counter.

But before Pineapple had a moment to pop out of the bag to introduce himself to his new owner, a moment he had been dreaming of ever since he first got put on the shelf of the gift shop, the top of the brown paper bag got folded over, causing Pineapple to instantly fall asleep. He tended to get very drowsy in dark spaces.

Based on the bits of muffled conversation he could hear from the bag, he found out that he had made his way to New York City via the first class overhead luggage compartment of a Hawaiian Air airplane, wedged in between a few Brooks Brothers ties and a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes. When he arrived in Manhattan, both he, and the bag he was in, were carelessly thrown in a pile in the corner of what he came to understand was Maher's room.

Waiting a few more minutes so that he was absolutely sure that no one was around, Pineapple began humming an old Hawaiian folk song that he had learned when he was younger. Always the optimist, the little tune brought back a smile to his face and he was soon in a jolly good mood again.

After an extended period, Pineapple sat down in the corner of his bag, tired from the humming, which had turned into singing, which in turn had resulted a full out dance routine, mainly consisting of him shaking his round rump, a dance which he dubbed the "Pineapple Shake."

He glanced down at his stomach and saw the brightly colored wording proclaiming "I Heart Maui" scrawled across it. Prior to being sent out to the gift stores, each toy had been stitched with various sayings and decorations. So while Pineapple had at one point been very proud of the slogan on his body, he wasn't so sure about it anymore. It'd been so long since he had seen the outside world, much less Maui, and he honestly couldn't remember if he loved it or not.

Frustrated, he pushed the side of the brown paper bag, and the loud crinkling noise surprised him. Encouraged, he pushed against it harder, and the noise amplified. Again and again, the little pineapple stuffed toy threw himself against the sides of the prison that kept him captive.

Despite his best efforts, as was the case during his many other previous attempts at escaping, the bag held strong. As much out of defeat as out of desperation, he kicked the side of the bag and then plopped himself back down in a corner and let sticky teardrops fall from his black plastic eyes.

Of the few things that little Pineapple knew, one thing was certain--he had to get out of this bag or else his little heart would break into a million unfixable pieces.