Summary

Nicci, a performance artist, reflects on her complex relationship with her ex-lover and collaborator, Charles, while navigating her current life and artistic endeavors with her new partner, Alice, and their friends.

Abstract

The narrative delves into Nicci's nostalgic musings as she waits for her ride after a performance, reminiscing about her past with Charles, a fellow artist. Their relationship was marked by a blend of creative synergy and personal betrayal, culminating in Charles' departure after discovering Nicci's involvement with Alice. Despite the pain of their separation, Nicci acknowledges Charles' conventional nature and her own continued attraction to both men and women. The story unfolds with a chance encounter with Little Willy, a colorful character who provides comic relief and a sense of grounded reality amidst Nicci's reflections. As she prepares to move forward with Alice and their friends, Nicci grapples with the possibility of a future that may or may not include Charles, all while yearning for a smoke and contemplating the stars.

Opinions

Nicci views Charles as creatively talented but ultimately conventional and unwilling to fight for their relationship.
The narrator implies that Charles may have overestimated his importance in Nicci's life, as she has moved on with Alice and does not dwell on the past.
Little Willy is seen as a loyal protector and a humorous, carefree individual who lightens the mood with his banana peel antics.
There is a sense of unfinished business between Nicci and Charles, hinted at by her contemplation of a "next time."
Nicci's friends, particularly Alice and Jimmy, are supportive but also apprehensive about the impact of revisiting the past on Nicci's well-being.
The text suggests that Nicci is resilient and adaptable, capable of embracing new experiences and relationships despite the emotional challenges she faces.

Collaborative Troublemaking

Hey, Electrical Banana, Stay Down

Little Willy won’t stay home and mind his own damned business.

Photo by Brando Makes Branding on Unsplash

Nostalgia kicks in when you least expect it. I left by the loading dock, headed out to the back alley, just like the old days. Hopped up on the retaining wall, waiting for my ride. Alice and the boys had stayed for a drink, giving me a chance to vanish. Make a clean break, Nicci — don’t look back. That’s the first thing Charles had taught me about performance art; it was the last thing I showed him I’d mastered, two years ago.

And right on cue, dammit, he comes sauntering around the corner.

Poetic Moments in the Betrayal of “Chaws”

“Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

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We engage in a half-hearted poetry pissing contest, measuring each other’s dicks. We both know who has the bigger balls; it‘s not Chaaawwwwws. For all his finger-snapping, co-ed tapping, virtuoso of verse posturing, he was always maddeningly conventional. The minute he got a whiff of Alice in chains, realized how it quickened my beats and made my poetry slam, he was out. Eight years, and he just turned on his heel and walked. Snap. Just like that. Couldn’t be bothered to fight…for us.

I didn’t tell him the dick pic was Jimmy’s idea. I could tell it hit the mark; let him think I’d shot the arrow.

So much for a threesome with two willing women being every man’s fantasy. Now, “Alice the Wonderland” was my main squeeze. Didn’t mean I’d sworn off men. Just…that man. It still stung.

But there was always something about the way we made poetry together. A little dance of jab and parry; iamb and you are; never the worse for a little raunchy verse — did I mention I needed a smoke? I got all tingly at ol’ Longfellow’s dirty limericks.

God, I wished I still smoked. There’s something satisfying about inhaling dried, burning leaves, watching the red glow at the tip fade to ash as little wisps of smoke curl up towards the stars. Fire, tamed at your fingertips. I drew my knees up to my chest, and gazed at those stars. I let Charles walk away. Again.

“Has he lost a peel, Nicci?” Little Willy, long-time resident of #2 Jail Bar Alley, saunters up to me out of nowhere, a banana peel dangling from his fingertips. He gives me his best star-shine shimmy shuffle smile, and I feel silly again.

“Oh, he’s still got a smidge,” I admit, with a wry grin. I measure out a tiny smidge with my thumb and forefinger. “As long as he gave you his electrical banana, Willy, and didn’t try to push me around.”

Willy laughs, deep and hearty. Like a bum who hasn’t got a care in the world.

I grin and hand him my share of our take from the night’s performance. Willy keeps the riff-raff at bay. He’s better than a bouncer. He reeks of Two-Buck Chuck — the drink, not the dude — and not many people dare get close enough to see those clear eyes that miss nothing. I make a mental note to pay him more, next time. He let one through. I know he did it on purpose, but I forgive him. I always had a soft spot for Little Willy, last of the hopeless romantics.

Next time. Damn. I kick myself, mentally, as Alice and the boys pull up with the truck. That means I think there’s gonna be a “next time.”

“Well?” asks Alice.

Steve’s giving me his silliest, Cheshire Cat grin. “So does this mean we’re back? We doing this?” he asks. He sounds like a little kid who’s just talked Santa into letting him open a present after midnight, while Mommy and Daddy sleep soundly, upstairs. He reeks of Maryjane.

Jimmy is silent. The raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“I let him think we never talked about him.” I shrug. Wave a hand in Jimmy’s face.

“He believed that?” Alice isn’t buying it. Like I wouldn’t talk to my lover about the guy I spent eight fucking years of my life…fucking.

“Yeah.”

“Damn, you bruised that man’s ego.”

“Deflated it a little, maybe.”

“Popped it with a pin!”

“He’s got plenty to spare,” I said.

“So, what’s our next act?” asks Jimmy. He’s smiling, but his eyes belie the mirth. He’s worried a return to the old life will send me into a tailspin.

He’s not wrong, but this time, I’ve got Alice to drag down the Rabbit Hole with me. And just like that, my thoughts turn back to electrical bananas.