Apples and Oranges: Fruity Pulp Fiction

[Inspector I. M Clueless]

The stands of the courtroom murmer with a buzz of excitement as Judge Katzaniel takes a seat at the front podium. In the witness booth on her left sits a small orange, innocent in its near-ripeness. Paparazzi begins surrounding the orange, taking photographs and inquiring about the fruit's association to the elite corporate organization "Sunkist." Katzaniel waves a hand, and several armed guards begin shoving the reporters out of the room.

 

"No interviews, no reporters!" shouts one of the guards. "Strict orders, the orange is an eye witness."

 

"Can't take any chances." The second guard shoves the final news rat out of the door. "Last reporter that got close tried to pull an assasination using a straw."

 

"Order in the court! Order in the court!" Judge Katzaniel slams her hammer down twice, causing the orange to break into a nutritious sweat. "This Mighty Pen Debate will now come to order. The subject at hand: can apples and oranges be compared? May I call to the stand the individual against the comparison of oranges and apples, one I. M Clueless?"

 

Inspector I. M Clueless freezes in his seat as every eye in the courtroom turns to him. He hesitates, then shifts positions until stands on top of his chair.

 

"Inspector I. M uhhh, Cluelittle. Now standing, your honor."

 

Katzaniel takes one glance at the Inspector, then rubs her forehead.

 

"Would the Inspector please move forward?"

 

'Yes, your honor!" I. M Clueless takes a step forward from his poisition on top of his chair. He loses his balance and crashes into an innocent spectator seated in front of him. Katzaniel observes the scene with a blank expression, then waves a hand. The two guards carry I. M Clueless and dump him at the front of the court.

 

"Mr. Clueless." Katzaniel shifts in her seat. "Your argument."

 

"Oh, yes." The Inspector lifts himself to his feet, then bows to the crowds. "Well, first, allow me to say how many fine hats I see in the audience today. Having recently lost a hat of my own, I hope that you all appreciate the hats you have on your heads. Like you ma'am, with your beautiful little fez. And you, son, with that ever-reliable thinking cap of yours. And lets not forget you sir, with your, errr... your furry... sorta...

 

"It's not a hat," grumbles Zool. "It's a toupee."

 

"Order in the court!" Katzaniel slams down the hammer, causing the orange to jump. "On wth the argument, Clueless. We haven't got all day."

 

"Yes, of course." Inspector I. M Clueless clears his throat. "Apples and oranges. Well, they may both belong to the same food group, and they may both produce popular fruit beveraes, but there's one issue that will forever remain between them: the issue of color."

 

A murmer breaks out in the audience, and defendent Zool raises a brow. Katzaniel slams her hammer down twice for silence.

 

"Yes, that's right, color." The Inspector's voice trembles, brimming with emotion. "Why, even in this courtroom, the issue still remains. You need only ask the court jury!"

 

Inspector I. M Clueless waves a hand to the jury booth at the east end of the courtroom. The orange in the witness booth faints upon noticing that the jury is composed entirely of apples.

 

;-p

Edited July 31, 2005 by Inspector I. M Clueless

[The Portrait of Zool]

(OOC: Sorry about the long reply and long time coming, I am terribly rusty and pressed for time - hope to do better in the future!)

 

"Order in the court!" Ordered Judge Katzaniel with another slam of her gavel for emphasis. The sharp thwack pierced the excitement like a mosquito on a Rhino's rump. "I said Order!!" she howled again, this time whamming her gavel several times. Satisfied the court was finally settling down she fixed her gaze on Zool. "Zool, step forward for your rebuttal."

 

"With all due respect, your Honor, being one of the dimensionally challenged I require the assistance of my, err, assistant."

 

Katzaniel nodded, signalling Grimmael to push the spindly tripod the enormous full sized standing Portrait of Zool was resting on toward the debate podium. He was almost there when one leg of the tripod caught in a chink in the floor. The tripod stopped immediately, but the portrait kept going...

 

"AAAUUGH!!" screamed Zool as he toppled over. Fortunately nothing was protruding to endanger Zool, though as he fell his heavy frame smashed the podium and witness stand to kindling.

 

The audience gasped. Zool lay sprawled in his forground. Katz's legs stuck out from underneath Zool's thick gilt frame like it was a house and she was the wicked witch of the east. Then, something else oozed from under the enormous painting... Orange juice.

 

A produce truck was called, but it was too late. After starting from the ground up, the young innocent orange had come to the debate only to buy the farm.

 

"That's a definite debate penalty," said Grimmael glumly.

 

Judge Katzaniel was helped to her feet. She was shaken but unhurt.

 

"The orange has been assassinated!" shouted a distraught bystander.

 

"Assassinated...?" said Clueless slowly, having missed most of the sequence of events but unable to miss the crashing of Zool's massive frame and the ensuing scramble. "Arrest that painting!" he shouted, pointing just in case anyone was confused as to which painting.

 

The guards immediately surrounded The Portrait of Zool as the courtroom doors burst open, releasing the pent up reporters with cameras popping at the orange slick and the tumbled portrait on top of it, their recorders recording just in time to hear, "You have the right to remain silent..."

 

* The next day *

 

The portrait of Zool sat shackled to the wall of the courtroom with thick locks and steel chains. His face, now pained with the look of the hopelessly accused, peered out between the black bars newly painted over his canvas. "But I'm innocent!" he wailed.

 

Katzaniel looked back levelly, replying, "Your crime was committed here in this very court. I myself am a witness. Jury, you are also witnesses. What do you say?"

 

Everyone turned to the jury to see *gasp* they all indicated stems down.

 

WHAM!

 

The smack of the gavel made Zool jump so hard it rattled his chains.

 

"The court hereby finds you GUILTY!. As punishment for your crime, you are to be mailed to a florida orange grove where you shall be ground up as fertilizer until dead." Wham!

 

Before Zool could jump again he was ripped from his frame, rolled up and stuffed in a mailling tube.

 

* A loooooooooong time later (having been sent US Mail Overnight)*

 

Zool slowly roused from his foggy state by some muffled scratching sounds, then the sensation of lateral movement. A moment later he was suddenly blinking in a brightness as he was unfurled onto a large tabletop directly under a bright light. This was it - the hot florida sun! Zool groaned, and prepared himself to get ground into little pigmented canvas bits.

 

"Are you okay?" asked a seedy voice.

 

Hm?

 

"Are you okay? the voice repeated.

 

Zool steadied himself, then shuffled to one side to try to look through the bars that were still painted over him and see who was talking. To his amazement he saw... an appple. "Uhhh, I think so... Who are you?"

 

"You can call me Mac," said the apple, who was reddish with green splotches."

 

"You're not... You're not going to grind me up are you?" Zool instantly regretted asking, preferring instead to have avoided the whole subject.

 

"Naaaw - we saved you!"

 

"We?" asked Zool.

 

"Sure! We at the Syndicate really appreciate what you di..."

 

Another apple quickly rolled up and smacked Mac, cutting him off in mid 'did'. After giving Mac a sour look, the new apple, who was larger than the other one and a bright shiny green, smiled reassuredly (Of course, that's not a literal smile, as apples do not have mouths, but of course they can't talk either. Just imagine, if you will, that while the apples are described as doing these things, that they simply "Look" like that is what they are saying or doing, as the case may be, as this is actually what is happening.) at Zool and said, "Yes sonny, we saved you, because we thought you got a bum wrap! The pip-heads have a thick skin, but underneath they're all pulp! We weren't about to stand by and let such a travesty of justice be carried out, so we intercepted your mailling and mean to set you free!"

 

"But Granny, you know that Sunkist..."

 

The green apple smacked Mac again, harder this time, knocking him out cold and leaving a large dark bruise.

 

"Uh," she said after turning back to Zool, "Silly boy's got silly notions in his head. Of course it happened just like I said, and no other."

 

"I see," said Zool, actually thinking he did.

 

Just then another apple came in, a big red round one. "Big Jon!" stepped in Granny before anything else could be said. "I was just explaining to Zool how we thought he had been framed, err, no pun intended, and had decided to help him out."

 

"Yeeaah?" came the reply, a cross between a rumble and a croak. "Sssgoood."

 

"If you want to help me out," interjected Zool, "How about turning down that light and getting rid of these bars?"

 

The two apples looked at each other for a moment before Granny sprang to his aid, some secret message having been received from Big Jon's look. "Sure thing!" She turned down the light, then grabbed one corner of the painted bars on Zool's canvas and peeled them all off in one quick jerk. Wadding them up she threw them in a nearby trash can.

 

"Ahh! Free at last!" said Zool with a bright smile and a wide sweep of his arms, and then of course didn't go anywhere. "Well... What's the plan?"

 

Big Jon held up an arm, and said, "Onnin Igasssaay sumpin." What he meant to say was he wanted to take a moment because he had something to say, but of course his voice being so deep and gravelly and his apple accent being so harsh, dictating it correctly is very hard, and it is also incredibly annoying to read.

 

Big Jon went on to say that he wished to further explain his altruism in releasing Zool, that it wasn't really about Zool so much as a far loftier fruititarianism. The debate in the courtroom that day wasn't really about apples and oranges, but about society itself, a society that concentrates on differences more than likenesses. Big Jon stated that he and his group were working toward a better tomorrow, a day when genus was no longer an issue, a day when fruit was not judged by the color of it's skin, but by the universal innate validity of it's juice! A day when apples and oranges would walk together as one, because really they are one, as are all living things in the universe!

 

"That's so beautiful!" said Zool, who had started weeping into a handkerchief. "Oh! I can just... Imagine!" He then gave a long blast as he blew his nose. "There is just one thing... Why was there a burned citrus tree on the court lawn the morning of my trial?"

 

Big Jon made a slicing motion across his throat to Granny and turned to leave.

 

"Uh-oh..." said Zool, who suddenly realized he landed himself in yet another sticky situation.

[Inspector I. M Clueless]

Peachy Jennings and Apricot O' Donnel take their seats as a fruit bowl flashes across the screen, highlighting the words "Harvest at 9:00." A small cherry applies peach make-up to Peachy's peach fuzz while O' Donnel rehearses not falling over on her side. The cherry scurries away as the lights dim and a camera turns to Peachy.

 

"In today's news, local cauliflower hero Tom Atoe continues to make a name for vegetables everywhere in the popular Pen Beauty Pageant. Yet, with controversy surrounding his name in the tomatoe family, will safety be the cost of fame? Apricot with the report."

 

"Keen, Peachy." Apricot sways back and forth uneasily. "Reports have surfaced that rebel tomatoe terrorist organization 'Ripe Rotten' passed a threat to Beauty Pageant officials today, mentioning the possibility of suicide tomatoes willing to throw themselves on stage during Tom Atoe's appearences. The threat is likely a hoax, but Pageant safety measures are still under works."

 

"Thanks, Apricot." Peachy shuffles through papers with her stem. "In further news, a burnt citrus tree was found outside Katzaniel Court early this morning. Celery stick officials say that this burning is one in a long line of burnings from the rebel apple group "Hard Core," which has been dubbed "The Anti-Kist" by local orange syndicate Sunkist. Hard Core is also accused of peeling crimes, including one instance of beating a young orange to a pulp. If you have any information on these individuals, please contact your local pineapple authorities immediatly"

 

Several images flash across the screen that show pictures of apples that look like any other apples. The final image shows a picture of the Portrait of Zool, who looks rather confused.

 

"And now, Apricot with the soil report. Apricot?"

 

The camera wavers for a moment, then turns to reveal that Apricot O' Donnel has fallen over on her side again.

 

----

 

"Will justice never be served?!" Inspector I. M Clueless stomps his foot on the ground. He momentarily catches the attention of the court janitor, who is the only other person remaining in the darkened room. "Arrest this painting!"

 

I. M Clueless continues to point at the still-life painting of a juicer that he had pointed at earlier. The janitor ignores Clueless' rants, and cringes upon noticing a juice stain on the carpet.

 

"Awwww man, not another one of these stains." He lets out a dismal sigh, then reaches into his mopping pouch for some soap. "You drop a glass of O.J here or something?"

 

"Simpson had nothing to do with this murder." Clueless pauses and considers. "At least nothing that I've uncovered yet. That stain is evidence from the assassination, don't tou-"

 

"Another orange bit the dust?" The janitor begins cleaning the stain, ignoring Clueless' protests. "Man, with the number of orange casualities they get in this court, you'd think Sunkist was tryin to kill them oranges or something..."

 

"W-what have you done?!" Clueless sobs and stomps his feet on the ground. "You've destroyed all of the evidence, my investigation is ruined. Now how am I supposed to catch the person who murdered this poor orange and kidnapped my hat, hmmmmm?"

 

"Geeze, chill out man." The janitor rolls his eyes as Clueless continues to sob. "Look, uhhh... listen, didn't you say that that portrait over there was guilty or something?"

 

Inspector I. M Clueless perks up from his despair and jumps to his feet. He turns and glares at the still-life of the juicer.

 

"You're right, it's not too late... Justice will be served!"

 

I. M Clueless dashes at the portrait hanging on the wall, only to bang his head against it's frame by accident. The Inspector sways for a moment, then drops down unconscious on the court rug. The janitor watches as a trail of drool dribbles from Clueless' open mouth.

 

"I don't get paid enough for this."