I wrote this for a contest with the theme "cryogenic accident". My boyfriend came up with the great concept. He's very creative. My muse, you could say. I put it into action. It was a wonderful, collaborative effort.
Juicy
The glare of the stage lights blinded me as I peered out through the convex glass of my new home. I’d moved around so much in my short life, from the Winthrop Vine to the crate to the truck, and then aboard a freight train for a long while, it was hard to tell which end was up. Now I was here, wherever that was.
It usually took awhile to get my bearings after suddenly being thrust into a new environment. Eventually, I could figure out my location, and so far, I was still alive and kicking no matter where they put me. Sure, nothing was ever going to be like home, but on my journey, I’d learned many new things and grew a lot stronger. Overall, nothing had been too bad. Not yet, anyway.
The others I huddled with whispered that our fate would soon be determined, but I heeded their musings with a grain of salt. My kind was always speculating about things, since we were sent to so many different places so frequently. My mother said we were a bunch of gossips, and at the time I didn’t even know what that meant. Now, I certainly understood, and so I didn’t allow myself to get all worked up like the others. I waited patiently, albeit a bit nervously, as those around me were plucked up one by one and sliced into pieces. I burrowed my head under some of those who remained when the sounds of screaming became unbearable.
I slipped over to the other side of our transparent holding cell. The lights were not as bright there, so I could see a bit better. A swarm of frenzied activity had ensued. Flour was misting the air as those in floppy white hats floundered about holding sharp knives. I waited with baited breath to see if someone would get stabbed. I heard shouts, curse words muttered in low tones, and other odd sounds I couldn’t quite identify. Out of nowhere, a loud voice from above drowned out all the commotion.
“Welcome back to the Fourth Annual Dixie County Bake-off! We are a few minutes into phase three, and the four finalists have only forty-five minutes to create their signature desserts for the esteemed panel of judges. We have Mayor French of Boynton, who seems mesmerized by Chef Ambrose as he whips meringue by hand in a metal bowl. Food critic Marcel Deveraux has his eyes glued to Chef Montana
The whispering around me increased in intensity. I tried to ignore it, but it was impossible.
“We’re done for!” someone hissed. “They’re going to do away with us before you know it!”
“What do you mean?” a little one whined, and he burst into tears before even hearing the answer.
“You’re going to be part of a milkshake. I can tell you that right now. All the little ones are used for that. Or to make ice cream. Us bigger ones, well, we never know where we’ll end up. But, you’re not very ripe yet, so they can cover you in sugar and you’ll be just fine.”
“Won’t I like that?” the little one asked. “I love sweets!”
“Not when you’re blended into smithereens!” the larger one said.
The little one clamped his eyes shut, wailing with fear.
“Stop it this instant!” I shouted. Since I was by far the biggest of the bunch, everyone stopped to stare. “You don’t know what will happen, so why scare him like you have?”
Before he could answer, he was plucked up from our group. We all rushed to the sides to see where he went. He was taken too far away. No one could tell in what fashion he met his demise.
“Well, good riddance, anyway,” another near me said, and some laughed along with her. “We all know we’re meant to be enjoyed. How we get there is really arbitrary. It’s pretty pointless to discuss. We’re aware there may be some pain involved, but hopefully it’s minimal. The real test is whether we’re ripe and juicy enough. We’ll have realized our life’s goal if we’re able to create the pleasure we’re meant for. If not, well, you all know what happens.”
“What?” the little one asked. Clearly, no one had told him that if you aren’t too great, you’ll be thrown away with the rest the trash. And who would want to spend eternity with some smelly old fish bones?
My parents had told me the same thing way back when I was white with just a little green fringe collar, sitting under a leaf to hide from the scorching sun. Papa had taken me aside after our afternoon misting and told me that he was infected by a fungus and wouldn’t be around much longer. He wanted to help me to understand my role in life and what I should aspire to become. At the time, I wanted to play with the others, bobbing on my vine to hit the bigger ones, our version of the game “tag”. But, when Mama came over and made me pay attention by blocking the view of my friends, I had no choice but to listen.
“Little Red,” my father had said with a serious look in his eyes. “You’re just a wee thing right now, and everything seems so fun and carefree. But, Son, it won’t always be this way. I’m not going to be here soon, and your mother may be going away too.”
I looked at her in alarm, hoping he was joking as he sometimes did, but she shook her head sadly. “It’s true, my darling. I’m almost at my full size, and when that happens, you just get taken. We don’t know where, but Uncle Straw and Aunt Berry
“But –“ I protested. Tears sprung to my eyes.
“There’s no use getting upset. This is what your destiny is.”
“To be an orphan?” I cried, trying to push past Mama and go hang with the others. I didn’t want any more part in this conversation. It was just too depressing.
“No,” Mama said, holding herself taught on her vine so I couldn’t move her. “Now stop fussing and listen!”
I slumped back on my stem, my skin bristling with anger and defeat. “Fine, talk away. See if I care.”
My father sighed. “I know this is tough and you want to go play. But, what I say now will prove to be very important to you.”
“I’m listening,” I said, looking down at my cousins swirling around on the vine below us. The workers had started up the music selection, compliments of WJFP, All Oldies, All the Time, and although it wasn’t my favorite station, it sure beat sitting here getting some sort of lecture or whatever.
My father started talking, but his voice was drowned out by everyone’s favorite song, Strawberry Fields Forever by the Beatles, which came blasting through the speakers. I didn’t know why those pesky bugs could sing like that, because mostly they crawled all over us and were real slimy and creepy. But, they sure could belt it out, and although I was supposed to be listening to Papa, I couldn’t help but bop my head to the beat.
“Little Red, you’re never going to amount to anything if you don’t pay attention,” my father said sternly, and I tried my best to focus on him. With eyes all around my body, it was just too difficult to tune out all the others swaying to the music.
“Fine, son, go play with your friends, but this discussion will continue tonight.”
My father hadn’t made it that long. He’d started turning a brownish color shortly before the sun disappeared over the horizon. Mama had said through her tears that it was from the fungus. As we hovered near his vine, he tried in vain to utter his last words. My mother told him to save his breath because she would tell me everything he wanted me to know. Soon, one of the workers came by and took him. That was the last I ever saw of him.
As we huddled together in the moonlight, crying for our loss, Mama told me how it was. She said I wanted to do everything I could, including getting good nutrition and plenty of exercise, so that I would grow up to be as big and juicy as possible. The sweeter and plumper I could become, the more I could be enjoyed by others. The bar was set pretty high, but Mama said she had faith that I could reach it if I tried hard enough.
So, from then on until I was plucked from the vine and sent to my new home, I did my very best. Even after Mama was taken and my sister got leaf blight, I continued to do my daily exercises, chasing bugs up and down the vines and doing ten reps of five swings an hour to every neighbor I could. I did become a little annoying, I’m sure, but I just needed as much cardio as possible. I dredged up the soil with all the vitamins as often as I could, which helped me to grow big and strong. When they sprayed us with the pesticides, I took them in even though they didn’t taste very good. I used to shake them off when I was younger. Mama said if I didn’t get enough, the Beatles and ants and roaches may eat me when I least expected.
Now, I was the biggest of the bunch, and although I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, I hoped I could do what Mama said I should. I wanted to make someone very satisfied.
Before I could ponder my destiny further, a large, fleshy hand scooped me up along with a few others and carried us across the room. I looked out on a sea of faces as they stared back with glazed eyes. A few yawned. I guess our journey wasn’t very exciting to them.
“What’s Chef Marmour doing with those berries?” the overhead voice boomed. “I think he’s going to dip them. Mmm, makes my mouth water.”
I saw some of those in the audience perk up a bit. Before I knew it, I felt warm all over. My eyes were all covered, except those near my green fringe collar. It was difficult to make sense of what was happening.
“Getting dipped in chocolate is one of the best things that could happen to you.” Mama’s voice came out of nowhere, echoing in my ears, reminding me that I was indeed on my way to the top. My new coat felt all thick and luxurious, seeping into my pores and making me feel full.
I was gingerly set down on my back to bask in the glow of the stage lights. I looked to a few others near me, and they were also covered in brown. From the way Mama had described it, I think we were definitely wrapped in a decadent chocolate. Things were really looking up!
One of those in a floppy hat came by and blew air over us. My new coat was a little stifling, but after a few more passes of the cooling breeze, it became more bearable. I tried to roll over to see what the others were doing, but suddenly, my movements were restricted. I felt stiff all over. I didn’t like this, even if Mama said a chocolate coat was a good thing.
I could see someone near me struggling to turn too. I was going to lean over, if I could manage, and whisper a joke to her, just to lighten the mood, but those fleshy hands were on me again. I felt my backside peel away from where I was laying, exposing a part of me that I didn’t quite wish to share with others. How embarrassing! Before I could complain too much, something was tickling my underside. I giggled.
After a few seconds of the hands whirling me around in a ride better than the best vine at home, the new chocolate patch on my backside hardened. I sighed with relief.
I was gently lowered into a new place. I looked around and soon found a few of my friends similarly donning new chocolate coats that complimented their green collars.
“Hey,” I said to a girl near me who swayed a bit as she tried to steady herself.
“How’s it going?” she said, bracing against the wall. “What is this place?”
I shrugged, almost breaking my new coat. “No idea. Seems exciting though. I like the shiny silvery walls.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty.”
Before we could continue, a blast of something exploded from overhead.
“What was that?” I tried to ask. My teeth chattered violently instead, and it came out all choppy.
Another blast, then another, and even though my new coat had been almost too warm before, now I couldn’t stop from shivering. A strange white haze swirled around me.
“We’re being frozen!” someone called out.
“So quickly?” another asked.
“Yeah. It’s this thing they use sometimes. It’s called liquid nitrogen. Freezes us in an – “
He couldn’t finish what he was saying. No one could talk because our lips wouldn’t move. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it didn’t really hurt or anything. For some reason, with all the uncertainty that day, I was so braced for pain, any other new sensation paled in comparison.
Soon, we were taken one by one out of the shiny place and back to our glass dome. I was all set to settle in with the others when the hand scooped me up and dropped me onto a very hard surface. My new friends watched in horror as I shattered apart into several pieces.
“No!” I cried. I knew no one could hear me. I thought I had it made, being covered in chocolate after working so hard to become so ripe and juicy. And now I was there, in front of everyone, fractured beyond repair.
I wept pitifully, knowing I had disappointed my parents who were surely watching from wherever they were. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I did everything you said. But, somehow I was dropped. I’m sure it was an accident, but nonetheless, I won’t be able to satisfy anyone with the shape I’m in.”
A soft breeze blew over me, and I imagined Mama was comforting me as I tried to figure out what had happened. Maybe my new coat was too slippery. Or I was so big that I was too heavy to carry. Or maybe one of those hostile ones from the glass house tripped the one with the hands and made him drop me. I didn’t know what to think.
The loud voice from overhead interrupted my scattered musings. “We’re nearing the end of the bake-off. The pressure is on! Thirty seconds to go!”
I felt all my parts at once being scooped up and carried across the room. One part of me was placed atop a soft cushion. Then, another part of me was arranged on another velvety pad. Soon, each part of me was posed on triangular spongy things, and although I was still upset over being shattered and not being able to live up to the lofty goals my parents had set, the new luxurious digs admittedly were pretty nice.
“Three, two, one! Time’s up! Everyone, stop baking and bring your plates over to the judges.” The overhead voice prompted the hands to take all the parts of me on each of the springy wedges to the judges’ table.
As each judge bit into me, they exclaimed with awe how delectable I was. Even though I was in a bunch of pieces, they still seemed to like me!
When I joined Mama at my final home, on a new vine surrounded by white, billowy puffs, she hugged me. “You’ve surpassed my wildest expectations!” she said.
Somehow, I was whole again. I looked down at myself, noticing my chocolate coat had vanished and exposed my naked redness. It felt good to be me again, there with Mama embracing me. I looked over her shoulder, and my sister was rolling alongside Papa towards us.
I looked away from him, shame reddening me further. “I’m afraid I did no such thing. I failed miserably, in fact. I really tried though, if that counts for anything.”
“Don’t you see?” my father asked, nudging my shoulder. “You didn’t just make one person happy with your juiciness. You were somehow able to make a whole group of people ecstatic because you tasted so great! And, if that weren’t enough, you caused your baker to win the competition with his chocolate strawberry cheesecake! You should be very proud of yourself.”
I smiled at him. He looked so much better than when I’d seen him last. The color had returned to his cheeks and his top stem was restored to a shiny green. “Can I go play now?” I asked.
My father laughed. “All your hard work is over. You can play as long as you want. It’s strawberry fields forever!”
I giggled and swung away with my sister in pursuit, hoping to catch a good game of hide-and-seek with my newly-found lost friends.
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