It was dark, damp, and smelled vaguely of vomit. Pear's eyes had been separated by the knife, but brought close enough together by the stomach bile for him to see straight again. For now.
He rolled his eyes to observe what would be his final resting place. He had always hoped he would rot on the counter and be thrown to the garden to grow anew, but life sometimes has other plans. Perhaps someday he would awake again far from the kitchen, in a wild orchard with no knives to prey upon his fruity body. Perhaps someday he would meet his friends again, perhaps they would grow beside him in the distant orchard. But perhaps not. Perhaps he would never again hear from Passion, Marshmallow, Little Apple, or even Orange. As annoying as Orange was, he had been by his side for as long as he could remember.
They had become friends.
Pear was alone now.
The only company he had was the slow churning of the acid around him, and noises he never imagined were real. He had heard horror stories about the noises. He couldn't tell what was real and what was in his head. His head was many places at once, so it was hard to gather his thoughts. Until he heard it.
"Pear? Hey Pear?"
Orange? Pear rolled his eyes up to where he had come from, hoping to see only his imagination going mad in the darkness, but instead he saw orange liquid trickling into the room. A deflated orange slice followed.
"Orange?"
Pear used all his might to keep his eyes on the orange chunks falling into the chamber. One came down with half of a face.
"Pear! Hey! Hey Pear!"
"Orange? What did they do to you?"
"Knife!"
"Who eats the fucking skin of an orange?"
"This guy does I guess, hey Pear, watch this! Nah nah nah nah nah..."
Orange did his signature tongue move, but it didn't look quite right with only half his face. It was hard for Pear to discern whether Orange was trying to keep it together until the bitter end, or if life in the kitchen had desensitized Orange to the inevitability of a gruesome death. Pear supposed it didn't matter. They were in this together, and they'd be the last people they would see in this life. Pear wanted to be a tree next time.
"Hey, hey Pear!"
"What Orange?"
"I'm glad we got to go together,"
"I'm glad too Orange,"
"Hey, hey Pear!"
"What Orange?"
"It stinks in here,"
"You don't have a nose, Orange,"
Their bodies continued to dissolve into the liquid around them, until soon there were no more eyes to see with or mouths to talk with. Silently, slowly, they slipped into the nothingness.
—-
The sun glistened over a lush orchard, the plants overgrew everything as they were untended by human hands.
"Hey, hey Pear!"
"What Orange?"
"You're a tree!"
"So are you Orange,"
Pear was content. His friend, Orange, was a tree who grew a few feet away. He was annoying, sure, but they were friends. On a long forgotten wall grew untamed vines, filled with dark fruits. This was their friend Passion, she arrived shortly after Pear and Orange had started sprouting leaves. A beautiful tree grew a short ways off, Little Apple finally had the last laugh regarding his appearance. A discarded picnic basket housed their sweetest friend, Marshmallow. A lemon tree grows not too far off, but the only sounds they usually hear from him are gentle snores.