“Oh, woe is me! Why am I always the one who gets picked on?” Mango juice was glum. To be orange, it sure was blue.

“Mango juice, what’s up?” asked White Grape.

“Another story has been prompted, and I’ve been left out yet again.”

“Oh, yeah," said White Grape. "Like the time there was that story starter about the most consistent-flavored juice?”

“Yes, yes. Just like that. And don’t remind me! I know my tastes vary!” said Mango juice hotly. “Just when I’d finally managed to forget that one …” Mango muttered sotto voce.

“Well, I know you didn’t forget the contest for the juice juiced out of the fruit that rhymes with the most words.”

“Aaugh! Knock it off, Rapeseed!”

“That’s Grape, not rape, and I’m seedless, and you know it!”

“Well, now that contest was just dum, anyway. Nobody is even 100% sure how to pronounce my name, my own self included. Do I rhyme with 'Bang, Oh!'? Or is it 'Bongo'?”

“What’s this contest for, anyway, Whine-oh?” queried Grape juice.

Mango juice answered, “Well, if you must know, it’s just this: ‘Write a story about or surrounding orange juice or orange colored juice, excluding Mango.’”

“That does sound a bit unfair and all,” admitted Grape. “Let’s see. Let me take a look.”

Mango shows Grape the proof. They read it very, very closely. ...

"Write a story about or surrounding ... orange colored juice (Ex. mango juice)."

“Oh, Mango, you’re not being singled out in an exclusive way,” piped Grape juice excitedly after a long moment. “You’ve been exemplified! You’re an epitome of orange colored juice! See? It doesn’t say excluding! It’s citing you as an example!”

Mango juice was so awestruck, it blushed. It glowed such a golden orange that a tiny tinge of peachy pink mixed in. It finally had its story.