She's Bananas

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Bob hovered his finger over the restart button. Once he hit that button he knew there would be no turning back. He would officially be… offline… all night long. He knew that the restart would take 8 hours and he was going to sleep through most of that anyway. His friends teased him about having a phone addiction, but he knew he could always put it away.

“I’m just going to check my email one more time… no, I just did. Turn it off. You said you would turn it off at 10pm and go to bed. It’s 10pm. Go to bed. It’s time to go to bed. You can check it in the morning,” Bob stabbed at the restart button and watched as the phone silhouetted into black like the end of an episode of Loony Tunes. Boowhip! A progress bar blipped into life and blinked 0%.

The phone made a dull thud as it was set down on the bedside table.

Bob closed his eyes and listened to the crickets outside his window. The pillow was cool against his head and he pulled the warm contrast of the comforter up to his chin as he rolled to his side. He took deep steady breaths. Before he knew it, Bob had fallen asleep.

A noise startled Bob awake and he groaned, reaching up to wipe the crust from his eyes. He was really groggy and a string of drool trailed down from the corner of his lip to a thick wet spot on his pillow. He must have been asleep for… what time is it?

“My phone!” he remembered. He reached to see how much progress had moved and if he could check the live feed of a pair of pansexual racoons in the attic of the city library.

The progress bar showed 5%.

Bob looked up at his clock and saw that it was 10:24pm.

“I guess, since I’m awake I’ll just play a game of Spider Destroyer… oh yeah, no phone. I’ll go make a chamomile smoothie.”

Bob got all of the ingredients for the chamomile smoothie, two scoops of chamomile, a handful of tart cherries, warm milk, oatmeal, and half an avocado into the blender. He just needed to add a…

RING RING

It was the quick trill of an old-fashioned phone… coming from… the bananas?

RING RING

Bob pulled one of the bananas from the hanging bunch and held it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Oh, umm, hello?”

The voice on the other end was sweetly melodic. It reminded Bob of wind chimes in a busy subway station.

“Who is speaking?” the voice cooed like a honey-soaked pigeon.

“This is Bob. Who is this?”

“Melody,” she said with a smooth peanut butter lilt.

It got quiet and Bob checked his hand to make sure he had just been talking to a banana. He was just about to set it down again when he heard her voice again, verbally seducing him back to the phone.

“What can I do for you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You called me,” Bob said.

“No, you called me,” Melody said.

“You called me on a banana.”

“Oh, well, I hope you aren’t one to blush because… you called me on my dildo.”

Bob could barely hold back his laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me. You are the perv that called a dildo,” Melody said.

“What kind of dildo is it?”

“Why?!”

“I called it. I have a right to know who I am speaking to.”

It was Melody’s turn to let loose a laugh. It sounded like sudden rain falling on a neighborhood block party.

“It’s one of those realistic looking ones, skin tone and veins and all. Very rubbery,” Melody said.

“It had to be realistic. Damn. I’ve already lost the girl… and to a hung telephone,” Bob said.

Melody laughed again like a chorus of angry geese.

It didn’t take long before they discovered they were both charging their phones for the same reason at the same time.

“Freaky Friday kind of shit. So, you are home alone without your phone?”

“Originally my roommate was going to be here to hang out and keep me occupied, but he got called in for a night shift. Turns out he’ll be getting home right when my phone is anticipated to be done,” Bob said.

“Well, I can let you get to bed if you want.”

“I’m not really tired and I’m kind of enjoying the chat. If you want to talk a little more.”

The two talked into the night. By midnight they were eating freezer taquitos and discussing their childhoods.

At two in the morning they sat outside and discussed their theories on space, time, and the greater existence while they watched for falling stars.

At two thirty in the morning they were both relaxing in bubble baths talking about their sexual exploitation and desires. They masturbated together for thirty seven minutes.

At three oh’seven in the morning they both heard each other pee.

At four in the morning they discussed their favorite memes and eyewitness tales of people they had each seen fall down. They had each seen a lot of people fall down in funny ways.

At five fifty in the morning they started their 10 minute countdown. It would be like their personal new year’s eve countdown. They let it count down as they drowsily kept tabs on each other’s conscious levels to the countdown.

“I haven’t let you sleep at all,” Melody said.

“I’ll take a nap later. This has been the best date I’ve ever had,” Bob said.

“Was it a date?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“I think it was the best date I’ve ever had too. Would you like to have another in real life sometime?”

“I’d really like that,” Bob said.

“This night has been bananas,” Melody said.

“You’re bananas,” Bob said.

The alarm went off. The ten minutes was up.

“Hey! It’s 6am and the phones should be done. I feel so dumb, I haven’t asked you for your phone number. I guess I’m used to it being in my phone history, but… I don’t really know how bananas work. Let me run and grab my phone and I’ll get your number put into it. I’m going to put the banana down for a minute. I’ll be right back,” he set the banana on the kitchen counter and ran to his bedroom.

The phone was lying on the counter and as he walked up to it, it blipped to life and asked for his password. He Bent over and entered the password, “Sweet. Coming Melody.”

“Hey man, you like tired. Who’s Melody? You get lucky last night?”

Bob turned and saw his roommate, Charles, home from his night shift.

“You okay, Bob?”

“Where did you get that banana?” Bob asked.

Charles took the last bite of the banana and dangled the peel, “it was on the kitchen counter.”

THE END