A Domestic Thriller
Okay, people, we have a situation. A banana situation. And it’s… unsettling.
Behold (see the photo, if you dare): a partially peeled banana, dramatically draped across a coral-colored hand towel. Not on the towel, mind you. Draped. Like a tragic heroine after a particularly rough breakup.
Now, I’m a logical person. I like things to make sense. But this banana? This banana defies logic. It’s a botanical mystery wrapped in a potassium-rich enigma.
Let me lay out the facts. I left for a quick grocery run. A quick grocery run. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops. I returned to a house that, on the surface, appeared normal. No signs of forced entry. No masked intruders. Just… this.
This banana.
Here’s what didn’t happen:
- I didn’t leave it there. I swear, I’m not a monster who casually abandons half-eaten fruit on perfectly good towels.
- The cat didn’t do it. Look, Mittens is a fluffy menace, but her interests lie primarily in knocking pens off desks and judging my life choices. Banana theatrics are beneath her.
- Spontaneous banana combustion is unlikely. While I’m open to all possibilities, I’m leaning towards a more terrestrial explanation.
So, what did happen?
My current working theory involves a rogue Roomba. Yes, I believe the automated cleaning device developed sentience, decided it needed a dramatic centerpiece for its next performance art piece, and carefully positioned the banana for maximum impact. It’s the only thing that makes sense!
Or… maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Perhaps this banana represents the peeling away of societal expectations? The fragility of life? The urgent need to buy more hand towels?
Whatever the reason, this banana has disrupted my peace. It’s a silent, yellow accusation. A potassium-powered plea for answers.
I’m officially launching an investigation. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of the banana perpetrator, please contact me immediately.
And seriously, someone get me a new towel.
