Too Much Is Never Enough [FICTOID]

“I blame that damn techbro and his damn nanotechnology,” said the old Latvian witch as she tended her arbor.  “Do you have any idea how hard it was to herd all the nanobots that infested my trees into this one pear?”

The teenage boy she hired to help her looked at the large, pulsating pear.  It hung majestically from its branch, three times the size of a normal pear.

“I can cast a spell that made them all want to congregate in one fruit,” said the witch.  “It was a hard choice to make since I have only one of each type of tree – one apple, one avocado, one cherry, one grapefruit, one lemon, one orange – “

“I get the pictures, said the teenage boy.

“Let me finish.  One peach, one pear, and one walnut.  I was up all night deciding which one I could sacrifice.”

“So all the nanobots are in that one pear?”

“No, the wood of the tree is thoroughly infested.  Those are the excess nanobots.  I nipped the buds of all the other pears before they can mature, burning hem to destroy any nanobots inside them.  I let that one mature and ripen to draw all the excess nanobots, then I’ll eventually harvest it and burn it as well.”

“Why not eat it?”

The old Latvian witch burst out with a short, bitter laugh that sounded a lot like a particularly egregious wet fart.  “Then I would get infected with the nanobots.”

“And…?”

“And just ask that geisha Sus McGuillicuddy what it’s like sensing every smell in California.”

“Susan McGuillicuddy is an odd name for a geisha.”

“Her grandfather was adopted.”

“So this pear, it would make you smell everything in California?”

“Technically McGuillicuddy’s nanobots share the sensation of smell, but basically, yes.  This one, however,” she said, pointing at the pulsating pear with her walking stick, “would share every pleasure being experienced in the state.”

The teenage boy’s eyebrows went up.  “Every pleasure?  As in sex?”

“Yes, you horny little bastard, even sex.  Now, I want you to – hey!  Stop!”

But the teenage boy already plucked the massive pear and began chowing down on it.

The old witch spoke truly, he almost immediately felt every pleasure occurring at that instant in California:  A four year old eating a chocolate ice cream with messy delight, a young woman passing her driving test, a busy housewife enjoying a tea ad cookie break, another teenage boy experiencing his first under-the-blouse / over-the-bra feel of his equally excited girlfriend.

The exhilaration of winning a race.

The warm nostalgia of watching I Love Lucy reruns.

The simultaneous orgasms of countless tops and bottoms in California gay  bathhouses.

When they took her son to the undertaker to be prepared for viewing prior to cremation (can’t let those pesky nanobots get out into the world), the teenage boy’s mother asked the mortician, “Can you wipe that shit eating grin off his face?”

© Buzz Dixon