Endless days float past, each one blurring into the other. I cannot remember the day I was displayed on the high shelf above the produce, nor can I say with any certainty how long I've been up here. Flanking me are creatures similar to me, although none of them look much like me. One of them looks like a giant psychopathic sea sponge. When he was plucked off the shelf his smiling face seemed to look at me with a sick sort of satisfaction. I didn't like him, I wasn't sad to see him go. I was a bit disappointed to see the one who looked like a small girl with short brown hair go. She had seemed friendly even though we'd never held a real conversation. Often I'd rack my brain for something to say to her, anything at all really. "Hey, did you see how long the old lady took to pick out 3 apples?" Something of that sort perhaps, but I never got the chance. As quickly as she had been displayed beside me she was gone. Day after day I waited in anticipation for my turn to be taken home. I'm one of the last ones, it has to be soon, I can feel it. Unbeknownst to me, I had an uncanny intuition. I watch as a flustered looking gentleman in his mid-20's briskly walks through the produce section holding the hand of a small girl who looks a lot like the brown-haired creature that was chosen before me. She holds a bright pink balloon with words written upon it that I cannot read. She bounces up and down merrily. I watch as the gentleman seeks out one of the Workers. The Worker comes over to the man and they start holding a deep conversation, frequently pointing in my direction. Excitement flutters within me like paper mache in the wind. "My daughter wants the one that looks like a donkey," the man explains. "Are you sure? That one is pretty plain. We just got in a bright blue one with the characters of Frozen on it, I'm sure she'd like that one better," the Worker replies preparing to head off to fetch it for the man. I feel my insides coil. No, I cry to myself, no you must pick me! "Look, I don't mean to be a pain, but she's set on that one," the man repeats himself and points again in my direction. Yes! If I could smile I would be beaming as the Worker brings his ladder and lifts me up off the dusty shelf. I gaze over at the others. A spherical object, another animal shape, I bid them all goodbye. Before I know it I am in a bag made of paper being transported to the man's home. For hours I rest on the kitchen counter watching as the family participates in some weird party ritual for the girl, then, much to my discomfort, I feel myself being opened and stuffed with what I assume are small candies. "Daddy, do I get to hit the piñata first since it's my birthday?" The little girl pleads with the man. Are they speaking about me? Am I a piñata? If I am, why does she want to hit me? "Sure sweetheart, but don't hit it too hard or your friends won't get a turn and will be sad." The woman who seems to be the mother to the girl comes in and takes her into the backyard. The man ties a string around me and I feel him carrying me in the direction of a tall tree. No! I try to scream but no words come out. I do not want to hang from the tree, I do not want to be hit! I cannot move, I cannot speak. This is wrong, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. I dangle from the tree helpless and afraid as the man puts a cloth over the eyes of the little girl. I feel hope for a brief moment, perhaps they will only swing in my direction, maybe it is all a game. But I am wrong, I am so very wrong. A glancing blow bounces off my flank and I am forcibly yanked upward out of the girl's reach. As I breathe a sigh of relief I am lowered once more and am hit again in the face. I feel a kind of pain that only an object approaching its imminent destruction can feel and then everything ceases. There is a pregnant stillness in the air as I wait in agony watching the man cover another child's face with the cloth. The male child seems more aggressive, even the little girl waits in the background with dread. The male child steps forward and WHAM! My belly is split open, candy pours from the garish wound onto the grass below. Children rush forward screaming triumphantly as they fight and claw and push each other for the candy. The little girl begins to cry. Is she crying for me? I wonder. "Daddy, daddy! It's MY birthday! I was s'posed to break the piñata it's not fair!" She sobs into the man's shirt as he tries to console her. Surprisingly I feel a tear fall from my face as well before I am lowered and cast aside into the garbage.