RADIO

Narrator: British, male, dry, pondersome tone, slow read.

Aunt Dextra hadn’t been seen for fifteen years. And it madeall the more sense when I saw her nails. Gardening had been a passion, but bygum Dextra, what about fashion?
She’d spent all her adult life in the confines of aninvention shed, unsurprised was I that she’d never been wed. She was pleased aspie with her latest creation, of which had to be made a demonstration. Thejuice of 10 fruits’, she cried, without pretension, ‘how’s that for a cleverinvention?’. Within seconds, she funneled down some juice, and with it theeffects of a serious spruce. By golly, Aunt Dex, what’s in this stuff? If Itold you my duck, I’d have to give you the pluck.

Superjuice. 10fruits. 10 Vitamins. One helluva fruit had to have come up with that.



Narrator: British, male, dry, pondersome tone, slow read.

I hadn’t seen Aunt Dextra for two peaceful decades. So whenthe call for tea with Aunt D finally tinkled, I gulped down a tot, packed somebiscuits and hopped onto the train to Bergvliet where she lived. Her inventionshed was a cosy form of organized chaos. Veiled behind green plastic concealedwhat seemed like a deformed Christmas tree. She swore me to secrecy, and withcrossed fingers behind my back, I nodded earnestly. She flung the veil off.Appearing in a ray of light, a freak of nature gave me a wonderful fright. Atree full of unrecognizable fruits. Fruits, not one similar to the next, fullof textures and colours, the only thing consistant was it’s ten sidedun-shapeliness. All Aunt Dextra could do was skip on one leg, click herfingers, and spin around, as if she’d created some magical thing. ‘Is this thewobberjunlge you’ve been working on since WW2?’ ‘Yes! Yes it is!’ And by gum,she’d done a spectacular thing.


Superjuice. 10fruits. 10 Vitamins. One helluva fruit had to have come up with that.