The Durian Slice.

A durian, or the Damien of fruits as I call them, is a fruit from southeast Asia. Recently, my teenage sister has decided to become a vegan and, besides her regular speeches against red meat and philosophies on spirituality, she experiments in imported goods and edible shrubbery.

Before moving to Singapore, a friend of mine had introduced the mythical fruit to me but only in words. We watched Natalie Tran’s video about Singy, where the YouTube sensation said that they were illegal on the metro because of their trademark odor. Vegan sister has shown me why. Her latest experiment was one durian bought for 16,000 LL (a bit over $10) from TSC. And she decided to store the spiky whoopee cushion in the fridge after cutting it open. Why is this bad? I’ll tell you.

The fruit can only be described as the lovechild of a pineapple and blowfish. The smell, which infested our kitchen and fridge, is like a rotten egg stuffed in a gym sock that was soaking in a septic tank. The fact that it looks like a medieval weapon and smells like a medieval outhouse would make one wonder if it’s supposed to be ingested. Isn’t that natures way of saying “stay away”? I thought to myself, don’t judge. What if it’s delicious? What if this is actually the sneaky durian’s way of testing the human race? Only those who are strong enough may have me, a chastity belt for fresh produce.

So I tried it. It was hard to do since you can’t avoid smelling the fruit before consuming it. So I plugged my nose. At first, it tastes like almonds. And then it starts to taste just like it smells right when you’re about to start digesting it. By then, it’s too late. You’ve been durianed. I ate a teaspoon of Betty Crocker Rainbow Chip frosting to get rid of the aftertaste. Did I mention she put it in the fridge?