It happened to an apple

A vacation sky. Clouds frisked about in a holiday mood. Two apples in an ice-blue bowl engaged in desultory conversation.

Ripe: The kitchen seems so quiet today. Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside.

Riper: I’ve been there once. The first day I got here, I was slightly green and muddy. So they took me to the kitchen and washed me in the glass sink there. Quite a busy place, that one.

Ripe: I can imagine. You have any friends there?

Riper: Not really. In the one time that I was there, there was too much going on. Something bubbled here, something else whistled there – and I saw a couple of huge bowls frothing over.
But I did meet this one fellow in the sink. Rather handsome. He wasn’t an intense sort of fellow, if you know what I mean. Just smooth, sharp, and steel. He’d got something sticky on the head; so he’d been brought in to be washed clean.

Ripe: Same as you.

Riper: Same as me.

Elsewhere Keefer, the knife, jostled under the spoons and forks until one of them asked him to behave himself.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked a dessert spoon.

“I’m cold. I don’t want to be on top,” Keefer whined.

“Okay, come here and stop being such a nuisance,”, said the Spatula and made way.

Meanwhile, Riper noticed something that, sort of, cored him. It’s only possible to be cored if you’re an apple or a pear; but more likely in the case of apples since pears are known to be intrepid fruits.

“Want to trade places?”, asked Riper. ‘You’ll be able to see better from here.”

“Sure!”, exulted Ripe.

So they rolled about until each was in the other’s place.

Julio was in the kitchen, taking out a fresh strudel and carefully surveying the baked expanse. It was perfectly browned and just correctly crusty. A little bit of garnish and it could be served on the lawn for high tea.

He reached across the counter and picked up the closest apple he could lay his hands on.

Ripe was rinsed quickly and patted dry. Then Julio plunged in the cantering mass of cutlery and pulled out a knife.

A couple of minutes later, the strudel was the magnificent center-piece of the silver tray, with translucent slivers of apple.

Meanwhile Keefer dolefully told Spatula, "I wouldn’t have been able to do it. He was so good to talk to."

Betrayal has many faces; just like loyalty.