The Trinity

There once was a woman who loved coconut. The woman thought about coconut every day. The woman thought about coconut every night. The woman thought about coconut all of the time.

One afternoon, in late spring, the woman was reading in a field of wildflowers and sipping from a freshly drilled coconut. Preoccupied with the coconut’s creamy water, she failed to notice dark clouds gathering above her head. As the woman tilted her chin to enjoy the last of its ambrosia, she was struck by lightning. 

The woman and the coconut were turned to stone.

Years later, the field was bought by multinational conglomerate with plans to build a parking lot for a casino. Within weeks of purchase, a crew arrived to level the field. One of the workers, Ángel, stumbled upon the stone statue of the woman and her coconut. It had fallen to the ground and was covered with purslane with the exception of a single, pointed breast. Ángel cleared the purslane and lifted the statue from the ground, instantly realizing he’d discovered something sacred – a woman in a state of rapture. That evening, he loaded the statue into his truck and quit his job.

On the seventh day, Ángel made love to the woman and her coconut, kissed her pointy breasts, loaded her into his truck and drove to a cliff outside of the city. With one hand on her stone coconut, the other on her stone buttcheek, he tossed her from the edge. As Ángel walked back to his truck, he heard the muffled pop of the statue’s impact with the ground below.

The woman and her coconut were now dust settling into red clay below.