Incorruptible Tomatoes

We have a long-standing science experiment in our apartment, Luz and I. It started the week we moved in. That is almost four months ago.

The primary subject of such experiment is (spotlight, please) a pair of tomatoes.

A brief background of this scientific undertaking. The tomatoes in question entered our lives as innocent vegetables (or fruits?) meant to be sliced and served with salted red eggs as part of an effort to escape the daily routine of dining in fastfood burger chains that serve unhealthy grease with every meal.

Somehow, amidst all the trouble of adjusting to a new place and in the hubbub of everyday living, the tomatoes were left forgotten in an inconspicuous corner of our table. It was probably in the fourth week that Luz noted that the tomatoes were still as fresh as the day she bought them. Without refrigeration, or any cling-wrap nor vacuum pack. Smooth, bright orange, unblemished.

Her first instinct is food irradiation. Mine is… well, I probably didn’t think too much of it, at this point. I was pretty convinced it would spoil soon. So we didn’t throw them out and just waited for nature to take its course. So weeks went by, and we just let the tomatoes be - a constant pair of orange orbs on top of our ref, quietly sitting between the pancake mix and its distant relative, a pack of tomato sauce.

After two months, this prolonged shelf-life can no longer be ignored. These freaky tomatoes were outlasting every perishable thing we put in our refrigerator. They were too weird to eat by now (who would want to eat something like those, anyway?) but too interesting to throw out. Eventually, we address them as “Ang Mga Mahiwagang Kamatis” and thus, the experiment commenced which aims to find a conclusion to the ultimate question:

How long will these tomatoes last?

Yeah, ok. Not very scientifically relevant. We wouldn’t find out the cause of its non-spoilage or the effect if we did consume them. But hey, these tomatoes may be freaky cool, but we actually have lives. Well, most of the time.

To make gazillions of money, Luz considers the idea of selling these tomatoes to Dr. Vicki Belo. Behold, a product of nature that unaffected by time, temperature, humidity, and the unkemptness of the studio apartment it resides in. Kept pristine by heaven-knows-what, with an unknown stubborness in not yielding to its decay . That’s up to the Belo Medical Group to find out.

Just this evening, Luz wondered aloud whether the tomatoes would last til Christmas. Asking why she wanted to know, Allen joked whether Luz was going to get them holiday presents.

I’m thinking a sweater. But something in a neutral shade. Very few colors go with orange, you know.