Western Orange 

The orange took a walk across the kitchen. His hat dipped down into his eyes. All the other fruits, hiding in their bowls. Cowards. Too scared to come out. Too scared for what will happen.

The orange took great strides. His citruss was bubbling, for he too was scared. Suddenly, in front of him, the sharp metal, diving into the cutting board like an olympic swimmer. His eyes bulge out from under his thick eyebrows as he jumps back. The knife and its hand sheath out of the board. As it goes in for another attack, the orange dives aside to dodge. The knife grazes him. He sees his zest under the knife's imposing blade.

La naranja dio grandes pasos. Sus cítricos burbujeaban porque él también estaba asustado. De repente, frente a él, el metal afilado se hundió en la tabla de cortar como un nadador olímpico. Sus ojos se sobresalen debajo de sus espesas cejas mientras salta hacia atrás. El cuchillo y su funda de mano fuera del tablero. Mientras se prepara para otro ataque, la naranja se lanza hacia un lado para esquivarlo. El cuchillo lo roza. Ve su entusiasmo bajo la imponente hoja del cuchillo.