Day 7 of Writing 101: Write about Contrast. Make it a dialogue. Let’s see how we do this. Below is something silly, something written very quickly, and is full of puns. I hope you enjoy.
A thick morning mist filled the valley of Froot Salaad. The sun had not yet been able to peek above the eastern mountain, but the valley was already alive with activity.
Two military camps faced each other, one clung to the foothills of the mountain on the east side of the valley and the other on the west foothills. Fifty yards separated them and one lonely tent stood in the middle. Both camps stirred and busied themselves with menial jobs, but all eyes watched the tent in the middle.
Inside this tent was many comfort furnishings including a large, round, polished oak table. Viceroy U.R. Bananas sat at the table and faced the tent flap. He was a tall banana with a deep yellow peel speckled with brown. A small clock on a bureau in the corner ticked away the time.
The tent flap opened and in stepped the biggest apple Viceroy Bananas had ever seen. He was bruised in many places, applesauce leaked on his left side from a small wound in his peel, and his stem was bent and broken.
“General New Yorker?” Bananas asked.
The apple grunted and bowed.
“Please, be seated.” Bananas nodded toward a seat to his right.
General New Yorker had just sat down when the tent flap opened again. An old and ragged orange stepped inside. His wrinkled peel was missing in spots and revealed his deep red, pulpy flesh underneath.
Of course, Viceroy Bananas thought to himself, he’s a blood orange.
“General Nederlands?” Bananas asked.
“Ja.” The Orange said with a strained and tired voice.
“Please, sit.” Bananas said and he nodded to a seat on his left.
General Nederlands sat, but he stared at the apple with a palpable hatred and anger.
I haven’t seen an orange this angry since they lost the World Cup, Bananas thought.
“Gentlmen,” Bananas began. “Let me get to the point. I called you here, because this war must stop!”
Silence held. Neither General New Yorker or General Nederlands looked at the Viceroy.
“Gentlemen, It is my belief that you are fighting because of a grave misunderstanding.”
“What is to misunderstand?” New Yorker growled. “He is my opposite. Apples and oranges are opposites, so we are enemies. It is very simple.”
“Ja.” Said General Nederlands.
The Viceroy let out a deep sigh. “You see, that’s my point. First and foremost, if you were opposites, that does not mean you are enemies. Second, you are not opposites. There is nothing about one of you that counters the other.”
“Of course there is! Why do you think everyone says ‘You are comparing apples to orange’ or ‘Stop comparing apples to oranges’. You see, we are always compared in opposition to each other.” New Yorker leapt from his chair. Nederlands reacted with a leap of his own and he moved to the side of the tent.
Bananas let out a deep, exasperated sigh. “That’s what I’m talking about. That phrase does not mean you are opposites. It simply means that you are different. It means that whatever it is that the people are talking about cannot be compared, because they are two different things.”
“Aha!” New Yorker yelled with ferocity. “We are different! So, we are enemies!” He charged toward Nederlands with a furious rage, but stopped dead in his tracks. A motion at the tent flap caught his attention and he looked. A pair of pears stood there and the giant apple quelled his anger and cowered away from them.
“Is there a problem?” The pears said in unison.
“Not anymore, thank you.” Bananas said.
The pears bowed and ducked out of the tent.
“Gentlemen,” Bananas continued. “You are juicing each other in this valley for no reason. You think yourselves enemies, but look at each other.”
Neither general made a move.
“Look at each other!” Bananas said more forcibly.
They looked at each other.
“You are both fruit. You are both sweet and juicy. Each of you has vitamins and minerals that the world needs desperately, and neither of you is more important than the other. Can’t you see this? Can’t you see that this war must end?”
The two general sat at the table again. Hours passed and the three fruit talked and discussed the war and the much wanted peace. Finally, satisfied, Viceroy Bananas stood.
“Gentlemen, I thank you. Peace has won here, and I trust it to you to let your men know and to break camp. If you please excuse me, duty calls. I hate to leave is such haste, but I must split.”