I die at the smell of durians. Not the "I would die for," but "the I am dead" kind.

Imagine you're taking a casual stroll through the flower fields. The air is so fresh and you could just spend all day relaxing in those fields. So, you come back the next day, and the day after that, and the days after that.

However, you take a vacation and by the time you come back to the flower fields, the whole field is covered in what seems to be gasoline and all the plants are shrivelled up. Deserted of all living creatures, but bugs.

When you reluctantly examine the smell you realise that the smell is actually just the king of fruit, durian. It isn't even multiple. It is just the one that covers and rules over the flower field.

Though, I suppose a more accurate description of this fruit is a tyrant. After all, you could say that their ruling with an iron fart.

I'd demand a mutiny.

Originally written in early 2018