Saturday, 14 July 2007

The Royal Blood Orange

In the late eighteenth century, the Queen consort Charlotte bore a son, her ninth, prophesised to rid the world of vampires. However, knowing her child would be at risk from the vampire community, she hid him in a blood orange growing in the palace's orangery.

Safe in the sun during the day, and watered with holy water at night, the blood orange tree flourished, producing a single blue fruit every year.

As the years went on, Queen Charlotte lost her mind* and the unique nature of the blood orange tree, along with the instructions for its care, were lost in time and outdated superstition.


It wasn't until I took a wrong turn on the way back from Europa** that the prophecy was thwarted.

Coming out of the cloud cover, I didn't have time to pull up, and crashed through the orangery glass and into the tree, my mouth open in surprise. Which, in hindsight, was a fortunate lapse in etiquette, as I ended up piercing the fruit with my fangs. It's bloody juice filled my mouth and I swallowed before I could stop myself.

As you should all know by now, I'm not a spitter by nature. It's uncouth.

Anyway, after extricating myself from my predicament, Immolation and Infernal DeVize stopped by to say thank you.

Which was nice.***

* Well, it was in her head which was chopped off because she was accused of being a witch. Of which she was, of course. How else do you think she managed to get a baby inside an orange?
** I indicated to turn left before I should've done, so had to turn, lest I feel the other commuters wrath.
*** Again, not really incest!


  1. So your mother wasn't the only one to bare fruit?

  2. Babies in oranges?

    Are you taking the pith?

  3. I did wonder how the baby got in the orange...

  4. Seriously, who the hell puts a baby in an orange?! That's ridiculous on so many levels.

    Now a Terry's Chocolate Orange…

  5. Oranges aren't the only fruit.

    Whatever that means.

  6. MJ: Ah ha. Ha. Ha.

    thID: Of courth not. Queen Charlotte had already taken it to make room for the baby.

    Dinah: By magic. Assisted by the removal of some pith...

    Tim: It's not Terry's. It's Dawn French's!

    Cyberpete: Isn't it. And it leaves such an oogy mess, too.

    Skillz: Who knows? I mean, there're pears, too.

  7. Spitting is rude? Oh dear... so crying and gagging is a no-no then as well?

  8. Just try not to make it too conspicuous, T-Bird dear...


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