Bright red and perfectly spherical, the Acacia Ridge Big Apple lures in unsuspecting visitors with the promise of a wholesome photo opportunity. But be warned, because this scarlet woman is rotten to the core.
Disarmingly located in a suburban car park, the innocent-looking treat is surrounded by a dog-grooming salon and a well-stocked ethnic supermarket. It’s an idyllic slice of Australiana – or so I thought.
Preening for my photos, I spied a sign beneath the Big Apple advertising a nearby Adult Store. I’m an adult, so I gleefully trotted inside to hunt for magnets, stickers and puffy pens dedicated to the Big Apple.
Not only was my search for cute souvenirs a fruitless one, but I found myself thrust into a world of decadence and depravity from which I feared I would never escape.
A real bad apple
The stench of sweat and desperation marinated through me well before my eyes were able to adjust to the dank boutique. A true den of iniquity, the Naked Passion Adult Store boasted grotesque silicone totems that were confronting for their bulbous, vaguely human shapes, and startling size.
Honestly, some people need to get a life! Who needs an enormous rubber fist when Ally the Alpaca and the Big Pie are nearby and begging to be explored?
I was tempted by the questionable pleasures of edible underpants, a concept which is at once unsanitary and vaguely silly. The texture of the garments proved oddly off-putting and the flavour – cranberry – slightly metallic. I also found their durability to be left wanting, with a pair unlikely to make it through a big day of hunting Big Things.
To my dismay the leather swings hanging from the ceiling were impractical, uncomfortable and lacking any sort of recognised safety accreditation. What a shame!
There was even something called erotic body chocolate. Let me tell you, there was nothing erotic about the stains it left on my fashionable tunic when it finally came time for me to redress.
Fed up with this crass display of debauchery, I asked the chubby little man behind the counter whether he had anything for someone obsessed with big fruits. He nodded knowingly and led me through a secret door and along a narrow, dark hallway lined with dated carpet that clung to my feet as I walked.
The temperature seemed to rise as we walked, so my skin was slick with sweat by the time the rotund fellow unlocked a heavy deadbolt and pushed me, whimpering, into the unknown space beyond.
An apple a day keeps their clothes away
What I witnessed that Tuesday afternoon will haunt me until my final breath. The dungeon was packed to overflowing with heavy-set gentlemen wearing bizarre fancy dress costumes, if anything at all. None of them seemed appropriately attired for a visit to a Big Thing and, if they were carrying any souvenirs or nik-naks, they had them very well hidden.
My attempts to engage the perverts in conversation about the history of the Big Apple were met with scorn, and their knowledge of the social and cultural significance of roadside attractions seemed limited at best.
Fortunately the generous array of snacks on offer were delicious – the guacamole dip in particular was superb – and I quite enjoyed whipping a heavily-tattooed gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to my stepfather Craig.
Why couldn’t you accept me, Craig? I was just a boy!
Even the deranged cackles of “Hey Bigs, show us your Big Banana!” and “Hey Bigs, is that the World’s Tallest Tin Soldier in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” became less threatening with time.
When I eventually stumbled out into the fading twilight several hours later, I was seeing the world through different eyes. Those creepy men aren’t not so different from me, wandering this cold blue planet, lonely and afraid, seeking comfort and love in the most unusual places.
Sure, their journeys involve casual sex in public toilets whilst mine climax with a super cute photo of a massive Brussels spout or chook, but you get the point.
I may have changed, but the Big Apple, that crimson beacon of hope lighting up the outskirts of southern Brisbane, remained the same. I smiled, climbed atop my scooter, and rode off into the sunset.
