Bananaman

This one actually got published! And turned into a movie!

The old man was a brown suit in the cafe, seated in the apparent focus of his very own magnetic field. Of course, all those advisers wrapped about his table felt themselves just as important in the field. But they weren't. And watching him scratch his trim white beard from three crowded tables across, I knew he realized the same. He was to be President soon. And then he wouldn't need the entourage of greedy advisors anymore. He smiled. That frothy latte was in good hands, I affirmed. And with it, our nation

.

I have to kill him, though. Well, I considered it killing. The papers tomorrow would clean it up somehow. No, it won't be called a murder. It's all those Christians, the reason everything now's been polished and ... sanitized. Not murder. Assassination. That's a slick headline if I ever read one.

 

It's totally OK though. I've decided to counterbalance it and throw the history books a curve ball. You see, there's already been all those prominent assassinations by crazy people in the past. Boothe. Sarkly. The nut that got Lennon. But for as truly psychotic as all those blokes were, every single one of them carried on with the same redundant routine. They shot the poor bugger with a pistol. Always. How is that even possible? Every time? Was that perhaps voted upon somewhere? And you would think it'd be even more difficult, with all those restrictions and metal detectors everywhere. And even worse, it's downright dull business. Dreadful conformity. Assassination needs a reboot and a prompt kick to the coccyx.

 

Which is why I'm going to assassinate the President elect with a banana.

 

Hear me out on this one. First off, you can just thank Buddha that I'm not some lunatic like every other assassin you hear about. I've thought this through. I've been very diligent on the matter, done all the research, tasted all the fruit. And I'm no more insane than the average American consumer.

 

Look, I've done the math on my napkin. Seriously, look at it. Every function differentiates into a logistic curve that ultimately requires the old man's assassination. Not just death, mind you. Assassination. There can be no other way. He must be killed, and it must be from the deathly essence of the banana on my table. I hate to keep bringing it up, but this country's history is literally chuffed with assassinations. So many and such frequently they happen, it's begun to feel like part of the natural order of things. A nice assassination every now and then to keep things moving. It's part of the form-destroying process of entropy. Circle of life, for the Disney drones.

 

But even that - ASSASSINATION! - is becoming dull! It's always the same story. Some idealist, a peacemaker, a cultural icon, a champion of truth, a leader of men, a genius of life and an architect of society gets pegged by a wacko with a pistol. What a bloody revolting system. Things have to change in this country, and we can't just wait around for them to happen.

 

Has anyone ever wondered if all American's problems couldn't be solved if everyone just stopped taking everything so seriously? This nation needs a great big laugh to get things moving, my napkin proves. And in certain amounts, the right touch of chaos in the wrong place can make all the difference.

 

It's time to force a change in the system, I'm thinking. In a country where even the assassinations have long since become mundane and routine, something is intolerably out of balance. And unbalanced things, given enough time, always fall down. Instead of a nutjob with a pistol, tomorrow's headline will have to explain that a perfectly sane coffee-drinking citizen murdered the future President with a banana. And even if the papers somehow manage to pull that together - and they just might - at least one person in every house is going to hear the story, the familiar agony of a dead President, and erupt in uncontrollable laughter. The kind where you start off by spraying your immediate vicinity and then fight a loud and uphill battle against suffocation until your cheeks hurt. That kind, everywhere. 

 

It's the new American Revolution, children! Isn't it funny how fragile the whole system is? All of great America, the corporate and political dreadnaught whose iron cities reached the stars ... all undone by some guy and a banana. Who woulda thought? 

And that's enough thinking, I supposed. 

 

I took a final slurp of coffee. All coffee drinkers out there know the importance of the final slurp. I straightened up my jacket and sweatpants. Wanted to look good for all the reporters. The old man was still there, I saw, passively engaged in the same conversation with the unimportant people. The next four years were slow in coming, it seemed. Doesn't matter anymore, though, remember.

 

I rose from my chair and picked up the banana which was soon to become legend. It felt so right in my hand, the glorious fruit. Three soft steps brought me to the old man's table. He swallowed some more froth and turned in his chair to face me. 

 

"Hello there. Are you as excited as I am for the next four years?" 

 

I produced the banana and levelled it straight at his temple. I held my breath. I was ready. Everything was about to change.

 

"Aha! So you've heard of my passion for America's fruit farmers, have you?"

 

"BANG!" I said.

 

 

Author's Note

Please ignore all perceived references.

Reviews

[Lynx]

Okay... lolz, this was hilarious.
I have no idea what is happening but I like the way you wrote this, it's very descriptive.