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Post #134 (isolation #10) » Sat Mar 05, 2016 4:18 am
Postby Lokiben »
Lies and slander.
I'm the banana. I come from a small, poor plantation in Costa Rica. My siblings and I were separated from our mother plant when we were young by a harvesting machine, and shipped to the United States, along with hundreds of other bunches, in a truck bed. One of my siblings became separated from the bunch along the way, and grew rotten quickly, right there in front of us. We couldn't help him because bananas don't have arms and legs, and we were all attached at the head.
The truck unloaded us at a Walmart in Top(k)eka, Kansas. We were put on display in the produce isle like animals. Shoppers would come. They'd run their eyes over us, judging our length, our width, our ripeness. They'd grope us to test for firmness while we just stared at the ground. It was humiliating.
Eventually, a man and a woman, an older couple, came by, and after a brief examination, decided that we were worthy of servitude to them. The woman roughly grabbed us by the stems, and threw us into the metal wire shopping cart. We held each other close and weeped as we were trundled out of the store and into the parking lot.
I'm not sure exactly what happen next, but I remember a snap, and I remember falling. When I regained my senses, I was lying on the cold, hard, pavement. It was just me. My stem had broken and I had fallen through the bottom of the shopping cart. I could see the cart not a long way off. The man and woman were unloading the contents into the trunk of a station wagon. I saw the man grab the bunch of bananas and toss them in to the car. He didn't seem to notice that the bunch was one banana lighter.
That was the last time I saw my siblings. They could have been eaten plain, or baked into a pie, or cut open and served with ice cream and a cherry on top. I don't know how they met their end. I remember seeing a can of Cool Whip in the cart, oh god...
The car drove off and then there was just me, on my own. There I was, three weeks old and already ripening, and starting life over with absolutely nothing. But I persevered, and here I am now.
Look, I still have the Bob Dole sticker, here on my side. They stuck it on me at birth. I could have it removed, or covered, but I don't want to. It's a reminder of my past, and the loved ones I've lost, and how far I've come.
Choose me, and I'll be at peace, Reck. I'll be recognized as a banana, not as a tool for sustenance, no. I'll be recognized as an independent, living, breathing banana that is just as deserving for a spot at the dinner table as you and your kind. You just have to choose me.
