A Bad Banana Rash

My mouth dropped at the sight—bananas covered my upper body. I mouthed the word slowly and said, “Bananas…” The bathroom mirror reflected a half man and half banana tree. Some bananas looked like mini yellow thumbs growing on my shoulders. Other bananas located on my forearms were much larger, resembling long loofas. God, please wash off.

I prepared to turn the knob to the shower as my hand trembled. Bananas.

“Ooo ooo aaah aah,” a monkey’s sound came in through the shower room’s window.

Please God, no, that would be terrible. Was that real?

I began to scrub vigorously. I was cleaning the jumbo banana on my chest. The yellow peel from it had a nice fruit aroma that emerged as the scrubbing caused the fruit’s scent to rise and mix with the shower’s hot steam.

I knew I had to go to the hospital, but I was hoping the shower would calm my nerves. Praying that maybe, just maybe, some soap and water would clear the bananas away.

There was another banana on my right side, it was starting to open. Like a scab I picked at it. The gooshy feeling of a fresh banana greeted the tip of my index finger. A sudden pulse from my heart rocketed through my abdomen, making my oblique muscles twitch. The banana was shaking. Okay. Don’t touch it, got it.

“Ooo ooo aaah aaah,” another monkey's sound haunted me through the window.

I was quiet—silently I worried—listening for more monkeys. None could be heard. Figuring that the hospital might be safer I turned off the shower.

A murmuring of whispered monkey sounds trickled in as the shower stopped.

I bolted for the bedroom and swooped up my clothing like a cheetah.

“OOO OOO AAH AAAH,” the monkeys had detected my movement. Surely they were upset that I was moving fast now.

Dressed and ready for the hospital, I burst through my front door and sprinted for my Dodge Charger.

No. no. no! Several monkeys were charging from my neighbor’s yard. I had only a few seconds head start.

I wasn’t fast enough, not for the fastest monkey. It stopped dead in front of me. The scent from my bananas intoxicating its face. The sensuous smell caused it to drool and linger a strange stare at me. Its monkey eyes dwelled on mine… Terrifying.

All the monkeys stopped and took deep sniffs in my direction.

The monkey looked deeply at me now. It was entranced. But its nose continued its adventure with another deep scent into itself—draining banana mist into its nostril fabric. I remained frozen. My car keys clutched in hand. I eyed the car. I shouldn’t have.

“OOOO OOOO AAH AAAAAH AAAAH,” the monkey banged on its chest in protest to my intention to run.

I did the only sensible thing and slammed my right foot into its chest as hard as I could. Sounds from its cracking rib cage rippled across my foot.

The other monkeys began to wake from their zombified stagnation. I took the extra moments to sprint to the car door.

I made it in. Lock. Lock. Lock them out!

Go! Go! Go!

The car roared and I rapidly reversed as the monkeys swarmed onto the vehicle.

Monkeys flew off the car roof as my speedometer climbed—forty-five, fifty-five, sixty-five.

Yellow light. Seventy-five…

The banging from the monkeys on the roof of the car stopped. The world was silent—a brief breath of sense as I pulled up to the hospital.

“Hello, Benjamin. I’m Doctor Lorrett. You can call me Sara. It says here… Banana Rash? Is it true?” her white hat was suspicious—it had bananas printed on it.

“Yes, its true, ” I took my hoodie off revealing: the jumbo banana on my chest, several thumb-sized ones on my shoulders, and a randomized collection scattered elsewhere.

“Oh, this is very common. Hmmm… any monkeys lately?”

“Are monkeys supposed to be a symptom? ”

“OF COURSE! How dare you ask such a question! If you aren’t going to take this diagnosis seriously, you can leave, Mr. Benjamin.”

“My apologies. Yes, there were monkeys.”

“Kay, now we are getting somewhere. Did you try sharing the bananas with the monkeys?”

“Quite the opposite,” I paused.

The doctor tapped her pen against my patient records.

“Please explain,” the doctor said.

“I booted one in the chest, the rest flew off my car as I went seventy-five.”

Sara gasped.

“The poor monkeys, you know you should really try sharing your bananas. Here, let's try now. Think of it as a medical procedure, meant for produce.” Sara, without hesitation, jolted her hand to the banana on my right side.

“Wh—what, wait!”

There wasn’t any waiting… A loud sound sluiced and slurped out.

Sara now smiled as she held the banana that left my side.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she said, and began to examine my banana.

“Hmmm…. Have you been picking at this one?” she said as she began to slowly peel and adjust the piece I had probed earlier.

I simply stared in disbelief as she examined my banana.

“Mr. Benjamin, you shouldn’t pick at your bananas—it's obligatory.”

“Come on, Doc! It's not like I’ve ever been covered in bananas before! Cut me some slack,” I felt helpless.

“Hmmm… Have you tried peeling them?”

“What? No? That’s gross—please don’t, ” she refused to listen and began peeling the banana she had plucked off of me. I felt like a depressed banana tree as she unraveled and devoured a piece of me.

"Oh! Yummy!"