Banana You Glad I Didn't Say Orange: A Love Story Read online

Banana You Glad I Didn’t Say Orange:

  A Love Story

  Banana You Glad I Didn’t Say Orange: A Love Story

  Madeline Burton

  Copyright 2014 by Madeline Burton

  For Maggie- Well, I mean, your personality is okay

  Were oranges named orange because they are orange, or is orange called orange because oranges are orange?

  1

  We will begin addressing the sequence of events by introducing a man that has no worth nor merit to his name. He doesn’t matter in the entirety of the human race or is he important to the progression of this story, but he is necessary in translating the few occurrences that set in motion this epic of anarchy, liberation, and most importantly love.

  In the morning, our man of no name greets the day with his alarm sounding and his stomach growling and hygiene not to standard. He goes through his trivial routine to prepare for his 9-5 job, addressing the obligatory precautions of getting ready to face society. The harsh florescent in the bathroom enhances deep lines adorning a face that comes with a job and a life that is less than satisfactory and leaves our participant even more empty than originally thought possible. It’s almost as if, our No Name was becoming like his father. After our not-really-a-protagonist has finished his daily hygiene, buttoned the last button on his un-ironed and slightly tattered shirt he headed to the kitchen, grabbed an orange, seized his keys, and went out the door. And, that was that. We aren’t quite sure what transpired the rest of the day, but it’s safe to say that he probably spilt poorly brewed coffee over his partially untucked shirt, thought about making a move on the pretty secretary and decided against it, fell asleep, woke up to the boss scolding him about falling asleep, and then falling back asleep. But for the most part, we really don’t and really shouldn’t care about what happened, because not only is it terribly depressing but it doesn’t compare to what is yet to come.

  Now our man (this term is debatable due to the fact that it has been in dispute since the adolescent bullies decided otherwise), continues through this humdrum cycle of dull and incredibly unexciting ritual of the brainless human species. Every day he wakes up and goes through the previously mentioned procedure, and does so quite flawlessly if I might add. He is doing a fine job of preparing us for the soon-expected. Such a fine job that when he reaches for an orange- he finds only air. His hand grips nothing tangible, and this is what sets this day apart from all others. He is out of oranges. He must go to the store and buy oranges. He has a change in schedule. There is a differential in his day, and this is what sets this particular, still seemingly boring day apart. No Name actually gets in his car and drives to the grocery store. Incredibly exciting. Whenever our man of solemnity arrives at said grocery store a quest, of sorts commenced. Spending the majority of his time gazing at an electric box or contemplating the pros and cons of committing suicide due to his lack of ingenuity, makes this mission quite a bit of an ordeal. The Big Box Mart that stood towering against the morning sky beckoned No Name to browse its labyrinth of discount prices and Chinese labored goods. Side-stepping through grander cars than his own, he trekked towards the Box of Sovereignty. Once our “may be a man” slipped through the sliding glass doors, he entered a whole different florescent than his own. In fact it was so unlike our man’s normal lifestyle that he was entering a bit of a frightened mode which may make this a tad bit difficult to relay efficiently.

  Craving the pseudo-normality he is used to, a simple bag of oranges was the only thing on his mind. Making a beeline towards the produce, he dodged fellow shoppers who, if you ask me, have a much more quality lives and are far more interesting. No Name typically held his breath, for a reason known naught. So, needless to say, when he arrived at the fresh fruits and vegetables, he was gasping for breath. Partially to do with the holding the breath, and partially to do with the fact he was one step closer to his same old boring life. No Name didn’t want pinks or greens or purples or reds or yellows he wanted ora-… Well, he wanted oranges, but that particular color seemed to be missing from the spectrum of produce he perceived. He scoped the territory dominated by an abundance of fruits and vegetable that he didn’t want- all the while growing more frustrated. This was, indeed, exhilarating. Not until this moment in time was it previously known that our lackluster figure head was even capable of feeling an emotion other than mildly uninterested. No Name even mustered up the energy to ask if there were any oranges in stock, and much to his dismay- there were not, in fact, any oranges in stock. Feeling defeated was not out of the ordinary for our fellow, so he went back the way he came, dodging more interesting and quality people, back through the sliding the glass doors, through the parking lot filled with grander vehicles, to his own, rundown and pathetic 1994 Who Really Cares?. When our protagonists arrived home, he went straight back to bed, wallowing in self-loathing, letting the weight of downfall deprive him from the daylight hours.

  What a sob story, but please don’t pay too much pity or time to this life of unimportance. To make the slow go by faster, I will reveal that our poor bloke went through a frightening amount of reoccurrences of his normal routine, and the normal-but-no-so-normal routine towards the grocery store. Every time there were no oranges. How unfortunate. Confusion an paranoia set in. No Name did something unthinkable and confronted a person of authority and quit his job. Every day and every night our useless man would sit in soiled pajamas in front of the television set staring ahead but not really watching. Essentially he was living in a world of his mind, a wondrous place for many, but nothing more than a sterile room of white for miserable No Name. Just as our man of sorrow was about to drift off into eternal distress, a news report caught his dying attention.

  “This is News Channel 20 and we’re here today with News Reporter One at a local grocery store in Ilium, New York. Over the past few weeks there has been a shortage of our favorite citrus fruit- the orange.”

  No Name’s eyes focused for the first time since that day at the grocery store.

  “Originally we thought perhaps there was a shortagei n Florida, after all they are known for disappointing America, but when things started getting suspicious we sent an undercover journalist to figure out what was happening in the Orange State. When he got there, the film he caught has stunned us all.”

  The news source played a clip of an orange processing farm showing hundreds of Citrus sinensis that should have been ornamented with the acidic fruit, but was empty. Completely and utterly bare boned save the leaves that seemed to droop from the lack of their jubilant buddies. Picked clean like there had never been fruit in the first place.

  “The orange mystery was strange within our communities; no shipments of oranges were coming from anywhere. Not Florida, South America, Spain, Egypt, Morocco, not anywhere. There has been a complete disappearance of oranges everywhere across the planet and- oh I’m getting word now that there has been a sighting of oranges- floating across oceans? Rolling down land? Am I hearing this correctly News Reporter Two? I guess I am. There have been sightings of oranges physically moving themselves away from human activity and apparently are setting up a civilization is The Solomon Islands, an island off the south pacific. There have been reported occurrences of people attempting to grab the fruit on the move, but each attempt has brought consequences, there have been about 7300 deaths and even more injuries. Whatever you do, if you see the fruit, don’t touch, catch, or go near the oranges. They seem to be fostering a potent strength to immobilize, singe, or.. even electrify the attacker.”

  No Name, who seems to have adopted the name of No Name, was petrified. Not scared, but more of a combination of the shock
and that he hadn’t moved in the past few days. The blonde news reporter continued on talking to the fellow news casters about the “perhaps this is the apocalypse” and “the possible existence of a consciousness within the citrus” and “what did we ever do to make inanimate produce defy logic”. Everything we thought we knew was now put into question, and every corner of the world was thrust into a state of panic. The innocent barricaded their homes, and the important did what the important do and tell the lies to calm the imbecilic human race.

  Now we must forget all about our pathetic, weak, disgustingly dull figurehead that allowed us to see the events that have thus transpired. Not that he was indeed that important to begin with, because I essentially, am omnipresent. I could have told you by myself what occurred without using a puppet, but I will tell you why I used another. I used him for you. Perhaps you have gone through the normal human instinct of questioning life, yourself, tradition, etcetera. At times you have probably thought about what you are worth, and I can assure you, that there is at least one inferior in the world to