FreeStuffEngine.com - Slip-sliding On A Peel By Leslie Fieger

Every day, or at least every other day, we make a fruit smoothie at mid morning. Almost without fail, these smoothies contain bananas; so, we go through about 10 or 12 bananas a week. Depending on my mood or the availability, these smoothies may also contain mango, papaya, pineapple, coconut or whatever other fresh fruit comes our way plus ice, water and the blender. Maybe also yoghurt or wheat germ.

However, banana is the usual and requisite smoothie base.

One day, after being out of bananas for an unreasonable amount of time (say 2 or 3 days), I journeyed to town for the morning farmer?s market. I went to my regular produce lady, Latina.

?Morning darling,? she greeted me as usual, ?How?s your woman??

?Almost as sweet and beautiful as you,? I reply, earning a kiss and a smile.

I picked out the various fruits and veggies that either caught my attention or she told me to buy. (?She?d be buying this if she were here, ya know?)

?Bananas?? I ask. ?Nope. No bananas,? she deadpans.

?Who has bananas then?? I ask, hoping that she will point me to her favorite competitor.

?No bananas anywhere.? She is adamant. ?None?? I am incredulous, ?They are the main crop of this island. How can there be no bananas? There are always bananas.?

?T?ain?t none nowhere now,? she affirms.

?Are you trying to tell me there are no bananas on an island that survives on its banana exports??

?Yes, we have no bananas,? she says with a wicked smile.

?Harry, please save me?, I think; ?this cannot be true; a mellow yellow flashback??

?Come Mr. Tally man, tally me bananas; me tired and me want to go home? he echoes, answering from almost 40 years ago. I go home, sans banana, stunned, dazed and confused.

Two days later, a neighbor shows up with 200 bananas. ?I hear you want some,? he says.

A few days later, we are having two smoothies a day and giving away banana bread to all our neighbors; a million fruit flies hover in my kitchen and, in my dreams, there is this recurring vision of Carmen Miranda. I am a cultural refugee, caught in a forgotten Calypso tape loop or a cosmic slapstick joke.

Humor
added July 9, 2006 Every day, or at least every other day, we make a fruit smoothie at mid morning. Almost without fail, these smoothies contain bananas; so, we go through about 10 or 12 bananas a week. Depending on my mood or the availability, these smoothies may also contain mango, papaya, pineapple, coconut or whatever other fresh fruit comes our way plus ice, water and the blender. Maybe also yoghurt or wheat germ. However, banana is the usual and requisite smoothie base. One day, after being out of bananas for an unreasonable amount of time (say 2 or 3 days), I journeyed to town for the morning farmer?s market. I went to my regular produce lady, Latina. ?Morning darling,? she greeted me as usual, ?How?s your woman?? ?Almost as sweet and beautiful as you,? I reply, earning a kiss and a smile. I picked out the various fruits and veggies that either caught my attention or she told me to buy. (?She?d be buying this if she were here, ya know?) ?Bananas?? I ask. ?Nope. No bananas,? she deadpans. ?Who has bananas then?? I ask, hoping that she will point me to her favorite competitor. ?No bananas anywhere.? She is adamant. ?None?? I am incredulous, ?They are the main crop of this island. How can there be no bananas? There are always bananas.? ?T?ain?t none nowhere now,? she affirms. ?Are you trying to tell me there are no bananas on an island that survives on its banana exports?? ?Yes, we have no bananas,? she says with a wicked smile. ?Harry, please save me?, I think; ?this cannot be true; a mellow yellow flashback?? ?Come Mr. Tally man, tally me bananas; me tired and me want to go home? he echoes, answering from almost 40 years ago. I go home, sans banana, stunned, dazed and confused. Two days later, a neighbor shows up with 200 bananas. ?I hear you want some,? he says. A few days later, we are having two smoothies a day and giving away banana bread to all our neighbors; a million fruit flies hover in my kitchen and, in my dreams, there is this recurring vision of Carmen Miranda. I am a cultural refugee, caught in a forgotten Calypso tape loop or a cosmic slapstick joke.
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Humor