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Rotten Banana Stories and Comments

One day I decided to make a surprise visit to mygirl friend's house. I knocked on the door and her little brother answered.He said "She's in her room, go right up." I climbed up the stairs to herroom and knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked again. The roomwas silent. I opened the door and listened, I didn't here anything, soI walked right in. I looked in and saw one of the scariest sights in theworld. My girlfriend with a pile of rotten bananas on the floor and shewas digging right in. We both let out blood curdling screams and I ranout of her house. I never talked to her again.

- Brian Madison

I applied for a job at a local super market lastyear and got the job. On my first day I went in to work thinking I wouldbe at a check-out counter or maybe putting items on shelves. When I gotthere I asked what exactly it was that I would be doing. They didn't saywhat it was, they just took me to the back of the store. When we were thereI asked again and my boss said I was going to be a mascot for the store.I was surprised, but I agreed to do it. My boss then gave me a box andsaid my costume was inside along with items I was going to give away forfree. He then quickly left the room. I opened the box and what did I see?A bunch of rotten bananas and a brown and yellow banana suit. I ran tomy boss, shoved the box in his face, and ran out of the store at an alarmingpace. Later that week ,via a call from the store. I learned later on thatweek that they were playing a joke on me, but because of my actions, they refused to hire me back. I wouldn't want to work for people with that sickof minds anyway.

- Sarah Thomas (asked us not to include her e-mail.)

One day some freak knocked on my front door with a bigole armload of
rotten nanners.

"Yo, hoss, wanna buy a nanner?" he asked me.

I could smell his stink through the storm door glass.His stench was almost
as bad as the armload of slimy nanners he carried. Ablackened cigar stump
poked outta one corner of the fool's mouth. He ain'tshaved in a week or
so, neither.

"How much?" I asked, warily.

"Two-freakin-fifty per, Jack," he shot back.

"Gimme 10," I said.

I went inside and ate all them suckers. Hated every lastone of 'em, too.

To this very day, I hates rotten nanners.
 
- Jim Schaefer

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