Purloined Grapefruit

At the end of my street is a house with a grapefruit tree. All last year, I watched the ripe fruit drop and roll down our steep hill, bruised, neglected and unwanted, until it stopped who knows where. Apparently, the owners are not grapefruit lovers like me.

So, this week while I was chasing my AWOL Cora all over the neighborhood, I saw one of those lovely grapefruits in the gutter and I picked it up.

Thus begins my life of crime. I didn't knock to find out if they wanted it. I didn't ask any of the neighbors. I just took it home, cut it in half, sectioned it with my mother's sublime grapefruit knife and enjoyed every guilty bite. I didn't add anything - it was perfect as it came. It was tart and tangy and oh, so delicious, even with a bruise on its little round bottom.

Next time my dog takes it on the lam, I'm going to look for more illicit fruit. I might ask if those neighbors are out in the yard but otherwise I'll just liberate it. I've become a leathery, hardened grapefruit thief.