The Chubby Banana

The world was yellow. When I stepped off the plane – The bright blazing sun beamed the tarmac and I was for some moments blinded. A native child welcomed me. She handed me a leaf’d crown, a banana and leant up to kiss my cheek. That evening I slept. In the morning I woke to a dazzling array of tropical bird song and aromas of Nicaraguan coffee, melons and mango, fried yummy banana . . . . and the warm sea – I took a dip. Naked. Something swam with me. Below me. Near me. Even, I think, right above me. It began to rain bananas – Astounding yes, indeed, but it hurt. One hit me on the back as I tried to swim away and one hit me on the head. They fell into the turquoise sea like rain drops . . . I ducked under and dove beneath the yellow hail – Swimming beneath a sea of yellow bananas that pelted my waves. I thought that I would never eat another banana again if I could only stay alive. Then I thought that perhaps it was good to rain bananas. If that was so, sharks might wish to feast on the plethora of floating raining bananas and not on a chubby limb that I use to swim – I swam naked toward a dock, whilst being pelted still on my back and legs. I finally reached the dock. The native child was there. Where is your crown, she asked. I threw it away. Why. I don’t wear crowns, I told her. And I don’t eat bananas –