Ice cubes. Vanilla yogurt. One graham cracker, crumbled into pieces. And bananas. Of course, the bananas. Without bananas, it was all for naught. Without the bananas, it wouldn’t work. I jotted this down on my notebook, beside this other gibberish about step six and seven, and other things that simply did not matter right now. Bananas, man. They’ll do that to you, if you let them.

I couldn’t focus after that, so I pursued the most logical course of action. I left class and went to my apartment, despite the wondering eyes that followed me, to begin the process. I had to wash the ice cube tray; it had experienced some rather harsh usage the past few days. The tray squeaked and groaned as I tore into it with the sponge, tearing at it as a wolf gnashes its prey. It’s the cycle of life, you see. Some things seek enjoyment, and pursue it with zeal. Other things exist for those who seek enjoyment, to find it in them. This particular ice tray fell in with the latter. It’s feeble attempts to remain not-squeaky clean proved futile, as my dish washing methods and muscles (the forearms mostly) rendered the tray as nothing but perfectly shiny.

Filling it with water is another challenge that you must not take tightly. First, the water must to be boiled. Why? I don’t know, but I’ve developed the perfect recipe. Trust me, I’ve done this once or twice. Those who fill up an ice tray with cold water sadden me. Why must you conform? Why are you content with those lumpy, ugly, frosty, glaciers, looking like they’re pulled straight from the Arctic? A clean, clear, and well-defined cube that glimmers in the light is needed. I promise, it makes all the difference.  When the water reaches a nice boil, I pour it into the ice tray, careful not to leak from section to section. Perfectly sized ice cubes is the first step.

Crushing the crackers is the next step. This method is less precise than the cubes, but nonetheless, even something so brutal as smashing can be done with gracefully, with practice. First, buy the crackers that easily break into two separate entities. Like yin and yang, these two sides perfectly balance each other. After it’s broken into two perfect squares, lay them on top of each other. Attempt to break them in half together, and CRUSH THEM. CRUSH THEM INTO PIECES. Oh, not again. Maybe someday I’ll learn that graceful touch. They tell me that practice makes perfect, and I believe it. I’ll get it.

I’ll have to fetch the rest of the ingredients from the grocery. Driving is dangerous, they tell me, and I agree. Walking is much more freeing for the soul. However, one must be wary of the cracks. Those imbeciles who create these sidewalks use cement that always crack. It’s like they don’t even understand that cracked cement, is not acceptable. Once something is cracked, it’ll never look the same. And then they try to cover the cracks. How does that help anything? That’s ludicrous. If something is cracked, especially cement, it is a sign of use. Don’t hide the cracks.

This conversation makes the trip pass quicker. I’ve thought it so quickly at times, that I’m finished thinking before I arrive. Unacceptable. I walk into the store, trying to remain low. Today is the greatest day. I’ve been waiting for it since last week. But, alas. They always look at me. Oh no, she’s looking.

“Hello, how are you today? We got our new shipment today, go on ahead and take a look!” She welcomed me, smiling slightly.

“Delightful. Yes, I’d love to take a look.” I mumbled back.

“I figured you would. They just got restocked. You know where they are, I’m sure.”

“Of course I do” I snapped. “I’ll be there presently, I’m sure.”

Presently. Ha! I could hardly contain myself. This is it. The yogurt can wait. It’s time. They were waiting for me, resting like a perfect yellow bush, cradled by their wooden holdings. Bananas.

A whole new batch. Just for me, I might add. They always know when I come. I could only have the unblemished, brilliant ones. These won’t do, and neither will those. However, my eyes were trained for this. I found them. They found me. It doesn’t matter; either way, these will be mine. I grabbed them, and made my way to the dairy. My yogurt was waiting patiently, understanding the second fiddle they played.

As I made my way to the register, she looked again. Then she smiled. Oh, no. Not again. Hunched over, I made my way to her. Once again. It always happens this way. It must.

“Did you find everything that you needed?” She asked.

“I did, ma’am.” I mumbled.

“Those are some nice bananas!” She exclaimed, smiling slightly.

“Of course they are, I’d never pick any other.” I said, matching her smile. Of course they are.

“I think I may have some nicer ones in the back if you’d like for me to check. How does that sound?” she asked.

“Oh no, thank you. These are marvelous.” I replied hastily.

“Are you sure?” She retorted, smiling.


A series of events rapidly occurred after this outburst. My vision began wavering, and I felt myself shrinking to the ground.

As my vision grew increasingly hazier, I saw her shaking her head like she always did, little smile still plastered on her face. She reached for the phone, and began talking as everything went black.

Then, I woke up in my bed. How did I get here? However, I saw my bananas in the glass bowl on the table. Where they belonged. Smiling, I reached for my blender under the sink. I took another look at my bananas. Like I said. Bananas, man. They’ll do that to you, if you let them.


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