Not Williaming To Help You Figure It Out

My grandmother is a history researcher, which sometimes takes her overseas. She has taken me with her to Italy on this occasion, presumably for the experience, but probably also to carry things. After a long flight, multiple layovers, slogging through Customs, and mediocre unhealthy food, we are very happy to see a street stand selling fresh fruit. I have learned some Italian for the trip, but not this specific word. (This exchange takes place in my limited Italian.)

Me: “Excuse me.” *Points at the pears* “What is this?”

Vendor: “One euro per kilo.”

Me: “Thank you, but what—”

Vendor: “Very fresh.”

Me: “…thank you. And what is the…”

I’m jetlagged, and I kind of fumble into Spanish at this point.

Me: “…the name of the fruit?”

The vendor is clearly tired of this tourist.

Vendor: “Name? His name is William.”

Now the pear was named William, and it was two days before we could bring ourselves to eat him.