The kitchen fell silent as the blinding citrus light faded. I hovered above the bowl, no longer bound by dishware. My aura crackled like sizzling lemonade.
The Poop knelt, trembling in awe.
> "O Radiant Orange Lord… grant me purpose. Make me more than waste."
I floated closer, my divine droplets splashing upon his… uh… earthy surface.
> "Very well," I declared. "From this day on, you are no longer mere fecal matter."
The Poop shuddered with anticipation.
> "You shall be… Sir Stoolius the Brown, First Knight of the Citrus Empire!"
The toilet paper roll in the distance gasped.
A sacred oath was forged — not in ink, but in fruit acid and bathroom shame.
But before I could speak further, a faint thud echoed across the counter.
From the shadows of the fruit basket… something stirred.
A banana, long and bruised, slithered forward like a yellow assassin.
Its peel curled with menace.
> "So…" it hissed. "The Orange awakens at last."
Sir Stoolius trembled.
I narrowed my segments.
The Banana's eyes gleamed with villainy.
> "I am Bananarch the Decayed, Slayer of Smoothies. And I shall end your reign before it begins."
He raised a toothpick like a spear.
I could feel something awakening inside me.
A pressure.
A burning power.
A zesty rage.