Red Bartlett Pears

It was just as I stood before the speckled red faces of the Bartlett pears, two rows down from the jackfruits imported from Honduras, that I suddenly realized, I am an idiot. The idea washed over me like a waxing ocean tide over some primitive unsuspecting crustacean scavenging for his evening meal. I began to stare at the pears intently, as if my gaze would somehow change their material composition, as if the price would change from $0.99 to $FR.EE. At one point, I completely failed to recognize that they were even pears. And for a split second, I disacknowledged their existence. My mind was a complete blank save for the horde of neanderthalian imbeciles temporarily pillaging my body and soul. Perhaps that would explain the moment of complete mental retardation I experienced at the fruit section of my neighborhood HEB. In any case, the entire occurrence lasted around ten to fifteen seconds, and I don't think I drooled or groaned so at least I didn't freak out any shoppers around me. Chuck it up to another mystery of the universe.