Earlier today I had decided that for once I would write something serious. Something relevant, something that resonated with my readers, something that they would be able take away and think about and perhaps not forget.
And then at the Indian Store I saw that the title of a new Hindi movie was, the Banana Brothers. It’s like the universe is saying, “Fuck that. You know you cannot be serious so why even try. So go make some sophomoric joke about bananas.” (Nudge, nudge wink, wink say no more.)
Well, Banana Brothers. I imagine the story is about two bananas that were separated at birth. One banana was adopted by a rich Mango and went on to become a PoliceBanana, and the other was adopted by a Vegetative Fagin and eventually rose to become the head of the UnderFruitworld. And they both fell in love with the same Apple. ( I should have made them fall in love with a Cherry, but then the opportunity for absolutely fucking inappropriate humor would have been far too overwhelming for me to resist. Or should that be absolutely inappropriate fucking humor.)
There is a banana from the Middle East for comedic relief, Sheikh Banana or as he prefers to be called, Banana Sheikh. (I apologize. I truly do.), and the gangster’s moll played by an over-ripe Plum. (I have no clue where I’m going with this. Reminds me of the charts with fruits names that we had in school.) And so they’re in a crowded bus, squashed together, (I now know where I’m going with this. I’m going to fit in as many lame as fruit puns as I can.) and stuck in a traffic Jam (I’ve capitalized the jam, so that you do not miss the pun).
Um yeah so fuck that. I can’t do this to myself any longer. Make up your own puns and do not send them to me. Unless they’re good. Then send them. With money. And domin…Never mind.
So where was I? Ah yes. Sadly I’ve turned into one of those people who turns over a packet of food to see the nutritional facts listed on it. Twenty five percent of my daily allocation of hydrogenated long chained poly nucleotide ribosomal gobbledygook, three hundred calories. No way am I eating that. No, I’ll survive on cereal bars and yoghurt.
I hate yoghurt.
I really, really do.
Especially mixed fruit yoghurt. I think the yoghurt I had for lunch today had in it most of the cast of Banana Brothers.
And then at the Indian Store I saw that the title of a new Hindi movie was, the Banana Brothers. It’s like the universe is saying, “Fuck that. You know you cannot be serious so why even try. So go make some sophomoric joke about bananas.” (Nudge, nudge wink, wink say no more.)
Well, Banana Brothers. I imagine the story is about two bananas that were separated at birth. One banana was adopted by a rich Mango and went on to become a PoliceBanana, and the other was adopted by a Vegetative Fagin and eventually rose to become the head of the UnderFruitworld. And they both fell in love with the same Apple. ( I should have made them fall in love with a Cherry, but then the opportunity for absolutely fucking inappropriate humor would have been far too overwhelming for me to resist. Or should that be absolutely inappropriate fucking humor.)
There is a banana from the Middle East for comedic relief, Sheikh Banana or as he prefers to be called, Banana Sheikh. (I apologize. I truly do.), and the gangster’s moll played by an over-ripe Plum. (I have no clue where I’m going with this. Reminds me of the charts with fruits names that we had in school.) And so they’re in a crowded bus, squashed together, (I now know where I’m going with this. I’m going to fit in as many lame as fruit puns as I can.) and stuck in a traffic Jam (I’ve capitalized the jam, so that you do not miss the pun).
Um yeah so fuck that. I can’t do this to myself any longer. Make up your own puns and do not send them to me. Unless they’re good. Then send them. With money. And domin…Never mind.
So where was I? Ah yes. Sadly I’ve turned into one of those people who turns over a packet of food to see the nutritional facts listed on it. Twenty five percent of my daily allocation of hydrogenated long chained poly nucleotide ribosomal gobbledygook, three hundred calories. No way am I eating that. No, I’ll survive on cereal bars and yoghurt.
I hate yoghurt.
I really, really do.
Especially mixed fruit yoghurt. I think the yoghurt I had for lunch today had in it most of the cast of Banana Brothers.
4 comments:
Do you still close your nose and eat your yoghurt?
a gem of a post, or as the banana brothers would say " a jam of a post" - especially if they were Mallu. That would explain the presence of the Gulf bound Banana Sheikh.
Sorry, too hard for me to resist an opportunity for juvenile humor.
oh my god!you get funnier with every post!!!!
a) Yup.
b) Ouch.
c) Thank you.
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