The Unbearable Durian Wafer, or The Art of Losing a Fight against a Fruit
It was a sunny day. One of the sunniest, warmest days of the year in the heart of Europe. A sunny day, that for most people who seem to have the time to enjoy it, is synonymous with walking around town. I, was no different — however I knew I needed a goal, an ultimate quest to propel my journey.
It had been months my curiosity had been aroused by a singular entity. My dreams haunted by a vision — a vision of hell. A green, spiked demon, whose putrid stench triggered something deep inside of me. What was it? Why was it binding itself to me? I soon found out that this demon was nothing more than a fruit; an infernal product of nature made only for the bravest of warriors. A fruit, that could destroy everything on its path, even the strongest creature, simply with its protective aura: its smell. The durian took up all the pouches of space in my mind, controlling my thoughts, manifesting itself through visions, through voices — echoes from the heavens and from the world of the underground. What did it want from me? As much as I tried to escape, however — it kept coming back.
Maybe I wanted it to come back. Maybe I had to confront it; Maybe I had to face my deepest, greatest fear. I had to face the fruit, face the durian. The fetid fruit would remain a myth, an urban legend, a tale from a world I had never known if I did not meet it in the arena, in the colosseum; fighting it to the death. One of us would have to fall — and I wasn’t ready to lose, no less to a fruit.
It was then on this sunny day that I launched my quest to meet the durian demon. Knowing that it might be a perilous journey full of hardships, I embarked my bearded friend and culinary enthusiast Theo, whose curiosity for the durian fruit might not have been as great as mine — but whose experience with it was more than necessary. His knowledge would provide a crucial set of tools. I needed him as a guide and as my battle companion, in the case the fight would get bloody. I was afraid — but the fear was overshadowed by my eagerness to finally come face-to-face with my arch-nemesis. Finally, I would get the answers I needed. The answers that I had been seeking for the past few weeks.
Our quest began in the heart of the city. With the sun beating on our necks, we plowed forward, past the mechanical bikes and the herds of school-kids gathering around a single menthol cigarette. The smells of fries and waffles permeated the air — but this was not the smell I was looking for. No, the smell I sought, was unknown to me. I pondered about its nature; could it really be THAT bad? I had been warned by many that I could lose much on this adventure, more than just this fight. The legend speaks of the black magic that emanates from the shell of the fruit, one that, when sliced open with a honed knife, becomes stronger. Like the Lernaean Hydra, every slice made it more powerful, with every head cut, another one grew. I had to be careful. There had to be a way to defeat it. After all, nothing was invincible in this world, right? I perched myself on the whispers of Theo, who spoke to me of his experience with the monstrous fruit. He, like very few, was able to protect himself from it. He was after all, still here, ready to come face-to-face with it once more. I admired his courage, but I sensed that there was something deeper. A need for retribution, a need for revenge. The fruit had taken something from him — but what that was, I did not know.
After whizzing past the numbing Casino neons, the sunburnt Belgians drinking 8% beers at two in the afternoon, and the many, many waffle joints, we arrived in front of the forbidden gates of the durian’s hideout. The building was pale — monochrome paint draped its facade, only the door, painted in dark red, was allowed to bathe in a pool of colour. A trembling shiver crawled down my neck and through my every limb. Whatever was waiting for me, it was right behind those doors. I was one knock away, one push away from meeting my foe. I gave one last look at Theo, who gave me the green light. It was time.
The doors opened up to polychromatic rows of edible plethora. Whether a myriad of reddish brown sauces, frozen shrimp goodies, or the endless strains of instant noodles — this was an overwhelming psychedelic paradise. The kaleidoscope of comestibles was putting me in a trance — I was slowly losing my mind. Theo grabbed my arm and told me to keep calm. This was the durian’s first attack, it had home-court advantage, and it used it against me. I was destabilised to say the least but thankfully I had brought help. I wasn’t going to be defeated that easily. The durian, while having an all-powerful stench, was remarkable at masking itself. Everywhere I looked, my eyes could not find it. Everywhere I smelled, my nose couldn’t quite catch it. Where could it be? Theo whispered to me. He had read in a centuries old spell-book of the deceitful prowess of the durian fruit. Its mischievous nature allowed it to camouflage in countless of ways. Having this knowledge, I remained attentive — scanning the prismatic room for anything that could hint at its presence.
It was then, after endless minutes, that I found it. My eyes twinkled with fear and zeal as I stared down the legendary durian.
It thought it could have fooled me — but I saw right through it. The dissimulating fruit had cloaked itself in a box of durian-flavoured wafers. I took a hold of it and grabbing it with all my might, ran as fast as I could and brought it out of its sanctuary. By removing it from its shrine we were on common turf. There was no more advantage, and the battle could begin. I crossed Theo’s stare, who looked worried. I wasn’t ready for this, but this, I would only learn later. I opened the back, releasing the demonic spectre and was immediately taken down by its funky, foul smell. A cloud of darkness overtook my senses and I dropped it to the ground. A malicious laugh could be heard in the distance — but this was not over yet. I grabbed the wafer and without giving it a single second, took a vigorous bite. The few minutes that followed were the most agonising, heart-wrenching of all my life.
The durian was stronger than ever. It was then that I knew it was unbeatable. Its stench pervaded me — it seeped far and deep down my body and soul, oozing out of all my pores. I was being bewitched by the durian fruit, and there was nothing I could do. I was powerless, paralysed by its almighty strength. Theo stared at me from afar as I dropped to the floor, crushed, conquered by it. He knew better than anyone, I had lost the fight against the durian. He had believed in me until the very end, but sometimes a man can only learn about himself once he faces his own demons, even if he is vanquished by them. Theo knew this — and even he could not help me. I was alone in this fight against it, and it had defeated me.
Just like that, my quest came to an end. While I suffered many physical and mental wounds, I made my way back to my home where I began my healing. I had failed to beat the durian, but the quest and the journey were not a failure. Indeed, they were far from it. My courage to seek the fruit and go head-to-head with it was worthwhile. I had learned a lot about myself and about the spiked demon fruit. Indeed, the durian might have won the battle, but absolutely not the war. I can only make one promise to myself and all those who read this: I will be back stronger — and one day, I will defeat the supreme durian fruit.
