Yo Banana, you okay dude? You’re not looking good. You’ve got… spots. Like a lot of them. It’s disconcerting. Oh, what’s that? You think you’ve always looked that way? You know I know that’s not true. You don’t need to lie to me. It’s going to be okay. Well, actually it’s not, Banana. Let’s be real with each other right now. Let’s not skirt the subject any longer. You’re dying. You are. I’m sorry. You know you’re my bronana. I didn’t want it to be the case. But it’s true.
I know it’s hard to hear with you being an inanimate object with no ears and all, but those spots, those grimly grown skin shadows, those moldy marbled marks, are tattooed fingerprints from the Grim Reaper’s hand. Death’s coming for you, Banana. Now, now… shhh… Don’t feel so bad. Death comes for us all.
Sure, there are plenty of ways we could fight Father Time, Banana. We could blend ourselves up into drinks, pasty purees sans decaying skin, stored away from the sweltering summertime countertop. But… honestly, that might SHORTEN your shelf life, dude. I listen to a lot of hip hop. I know how thirsty hoes are these days. And, being honest here, I’m not really down to get blended. That’s going overboard with the moral support. I guess we could wrap ourselves in bubble wrap, shielding away from polluted oxygen and the rest of the world. You and me together. Bubble Boy and Bubble Banana! But… I don’t really like the feeling of plastic. I like fresh air. So maybe not that. There’s always the freezer? But cryogenics are fucking iffy at best. I don’t trust that dark magic.
This isn’t looking good, Banana. We’re pretty much out of options. Well there is ONE option… You’re not going to like it though. So, uh, dude, completely hypothetically, how do you feel about euthanasia? Don’t look at me like that Banana! I’m not trying to be crass here, but let’s not let your life go to waste! What do you mean I wouldn’t want to eat something that looks like you? Of course I’d still nibble that nanner ass even with your bubonic spots! That’s for real, Banana. That’s a bro having another bro’s back. There’s nothing wrong with the sweet release of death, especially if it brings ME a little more life. So, like, can I eat you? I know you can’t actually answer that as, again, you’re inanimate. So I’m going to give myself power of attorney here and answer it for you: “K”.
Oh Banana, you always did love a good potassium pun! Rest in digested pieces, my freshly peeled friend.