Terrence and the exotic fruit...

Once there was an average boy. This boy's name was Terrence. This is not the sort of name that gets you to the top of the social heap in schools of any grade. This is not the sort of name that rockets you to the top of the business world. Terrence was familiar with the former and soon would become quite aware of the latter. That is not what this story is about. Stop thinking about it.

Terrence, as stated previously was an average boy, with the average amount of friends, and as you might have guessed, the average amount of enemies. Do you remember the name of yours? I do.

Terrence also remembered the name of his enemy. Donald Rider. This may not sound like the name of a greatly feared enemy, but if you are an average boy named Terrence, it holds a significant amount of dread.

Terrence particularly dreaded lunch time. This was the time where most average children examined the contents of their lunches and planned for mergers and trade agreements with other average children. Children such as Charlie Dwyer had trade embargos placed on them due to his mother's tendency to place beet salads and other organic items in his lunch. No respectable youth would be caught dead trading a perfectly good Ho-Ho for some sprouts. Yuck.

Terrence appreciated the usual trade, but the other average children had begun to shy away from him. The reason for this was that Donald Rider took a liking to taking Terrence's lunch during lunchtime. There was always the possibility that one would become one of Donald Rider's victims by the inadvertent association with Terrence. This was simply unacceptable.

Terrence had exactly twenty seven lunches taken from him by Donald Rider this year alone. Terrence did not mind so much, but his mother and father were very poor and worked very hard to provide him a lunch. Terrence's father always told him, "Son, always stand up for what is right and true. The sun and rain shines and falls on every man. You are just as good as any other. Terrence thought about this one day as he was thinking about the rumblings of his empty stomach.

It was then that an idea began to form. The idea began to take shape. It was the shape of his empty stomach which is sort of a kidney bean shape. It was also kind of pink in color. The idea was devious and wonderful. It was subtle and perfect. It was also guaranteed to work because Donald Rider was the sort of stupid bully that infects every school. Terrence finally had enough. His hunger had hatched a brilliance previously unknown.

On the way home, Terrence stopped by Mr. Granger's produce store. "Do you have any rotten oranges?" Terrence asked. Mr. Granger looked quizzically at the lad and simply nodded his head in the direction of the back. Terrence quickly found what he was looking for. It was fuzzy. it was smelly. It was the most perfect rotten orange he had ever seen. This was not true of course, as he had once seen a more perfect rotten orance when he was seven and a half at his aunt's house. Terrence did not recall this at the time, so to be fair, we'll let him believe it was in fact the most perfect rotten orange he had ever seen in his life. Terrence picked the rotten orange gingerly in a brown sack and carried it home.

The following day, Terrence looked on as the clock clicked slowly by. The time finally came and he bolted to the door. Finding his usual seat in the cafeteria, Terrence laid out his lunch in a neat fashion. Terrence sensed Donald Rider enter the room. He could feel his bully evil emenating as he came closer and closer. "Alright, dink." Donald Rider said, "What'chya got for me today?"

Terrence did his best to avoid eye contact with Donald Rider. It's always best to avoid eye contact. Donald Rider picked up the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth. Donald Rider took a long drink of Terrence's chocolate milk (this was strategically selected by Terrence for reasons you will soon understand).

Donald Rider's eye's shifted over the remainder of the lunch and his eyes caught on the rotten orange. "What's this" Donald Rider said, "A rotten orange?" "Haven't you ever seen a jaus-teece fruit before?" Terrence replied. "A what" "A jaus-teece fruit. It's from Madagaspar in Tarzan-nista." Terrence said quite calmly. "EVERYONE knows that" he continued with a snide look.

Donald Rider looked confusedly at Terrence, then back at the fruit. Donald Rider was quite unable to grasp what was happening. His prey was not responding as usual. He could sense something was wrong but did not have the capacity to figure out what. "It just looks like a rotten orange." "Whatever." Said Terrence, "If you don't know what a Jaus-teece fruit is, then that is your problem." "I know what it is, stink-plug" Donald Rider replied defiantly, "I've eaten like a thousand of these things. I eat them all the time." "No you haven't. You never have and you're too scared to eat one now." Terrence responded with narrowing eyes.

Now to those unversed in the world of "Bully / Victim" interaction, such resistance from the prey is completely unacceptable and will frequently be dealt with by wedgies, twirlies, or some other act to regain dominance. As previously noted, Donald Rider would have no such thing and needed to place this imp back in his place of subserviance.

"I'll show you." Donald Rider said and proceeded to choke down the entire rotten orange. Terrence calmly looked at Donald Rider. Donald Rider's look of satisfaction lasted for exactly 7.5 seconds. The look slowly shifted from satisfaction, to a distant far off look, to confusion, to worry, to uneasy surprise, and was quickly followed by vomit ("Huwaaaaaaugh!).

Vomit in and of itself is quite an unpleasant topic, but can in fact be made more unpleasant. The specific way in which this particular case of vomit was made worse was held in the fact that at this moment, Mrs. Lando the P.E. teacher was walking by with a full platter of beef stroganoff. That was not the bad part. The bad part was that Donald Rider vomited on Mrs. Lando's shoes and lower legs ("Huwaaaaaaaugh!). Mrs. Lando responded in kind and barfed on Donald Rider's head ("Huwaaaaaaaugh!). Children seeing the comotion througout the cafeteria began to exercise their rights to foodular expulsion in a flurry of foodular expulsing.

Mr. Dwyer (No relation to Charlie Dwyer the kid with the trade embargo, but in fact the Mr. Dwyer who was the school's janitor) looked on at the growing mess and wondered quite silently to himself why he had not followed his dream of being an ice dancer. Ice dancers never had to deal with this sort of thing.

Terrence on the other hand, though speckled with bits of jaus-teese (Justice) fruit and chocolate milk, looked on with a glow of personal satisfaction, knowing that a new day had dawned and a significant page had turned in his life.

The End.