Rude People

He Kept Putting His Banana in My Face

I Politely Asked Him to Stop

Every time I turned around, there it was. Looking at me. Watching me. Being wafted around in my face. I wanted to punch it. I wanted to kick it. I wanted to slap it with a parking ticket.

Alas, my tiny fists and lack of ticket papery things depleted my options. So I sat very still and hoped it would go away.

Just like I do with my taxes.

I was the first to arrive. I pulled up a chair and sat cautiously. As I waited, butterflies filled my stomach, the thudding sound of my fast-beating heart filled my ears, and the panic of wondering what the fuck my hair looked like filled my brain.

I checked to see if I had time to run back to the car and eat three chocolate bars. Sadly, time was not my friend.

Then he arrived. He didn’t acknowledge me at first.

Savage.

But then he gave me a warm smile and a “How are you?”

I’m fucking winning at life, Mate.

I pretended to be sweet and answered, “Great thanks, and you?”

He replied, “Hungry.”

Same Bro, same. If those chocolate bars melt in my car, I’m going to end you.

Then he sat down next to me. More pleasantries were shared. And he confided in me about his work problems. I smiled and nodded along.

But I gave zero fucks. I don’t know why he thought I had fucks to give. All my fucks are long gone.

After about ten minutes of that bullshit, he stopped talking, sighed, and appeared to take in his surroundings, before pulling out his banana.

Well, that escalated.

I hate bananas. The way they look. The way they feel. The slimy parts. No, no, no, no, no!

And when they’re soft… throw me in a fucking landfill.

In a panic, and unsure of what to do, I froze, staring at his banana.

He grabbed the end of his banana with one hand and worked the tip of it with his other hand.

This is why we don’t have see-through walls. Do that shit at home.

Then he continued to talk. Now about some dumb Fast and Transformer 47 movie, he had seen. As he talked, he waved his banana from side to side, inching it closer and closer to me.

I tried looking away, but each time I looked back, it was still there. His banana kept one eye on me at all times.

Like traffic cops, when they see me enter a 50mph zone.

I finally found my words, and said,

“I don’t like bananas. Can you please put yours away?”

He looked at me, puzzled, and apologized.

Thank fuck! The squishy tornado was leaving.

However, he had other ideas. He didn’t take my hatred of bananas seriously.

They never do.

He stood up and waved his banana around, inches from my face.

I tried distracting myself by thinking about happier times, such as the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. But images of bananas danced around in my head, and my eyes refocused on the very real banana in front of me.

I asked, “Do you think you’ll be finished with your banana soon?”

He said, “Probably”. Then asked, “Do you want some?”

I want to be a on midnight train going anywhere.

The look on my face must have given him my answer because he hurried to finish off his banana. Alone.

He cleaned up and settled back down next to me.

I was too disgusted to continue our conversation. So I made an excuse, ran to my car, stopping to throw up on the way, and drove until the lambs stopped screaming.

Which was about 3000 miles.

This story was about an actual banana.

Bananas are fucked up.