Like Pledge, only nonedible

Once upon a time there was an Orange, named Lemon, and he was sort of tangy, though mostly only if he didn’t frequently get juiced.

He was at his ripest age, an entire month old from Pick to Buy date.

His skin was orange, but his smell was citrus like.

Lemon hadn’t many friends.

Though, it wasn’t surprising, since his lack of organized structure was off-putting.

All the other oranges were 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31,32…

They couldn’t figure out why it was that this strange odd little Orange was named lemon.

Even the lemons 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31, and 32 didn’t want to swing from the tree with this little Orange.

Whatever

He died.

Like all damn fruit.

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