Print

Bananas?

Yeah, I guess I've got anger problems. But it's never really gotten out of hand.
Well, there was the one time. With the banana. But that wasn't exactly my fault. There was a kid involved.
I was at an art gallery. Weird, I know. I'm not exactly what you'd call the art gallery type. A friend of mine, his brother is an artist. It was his opening, so I said I'd be there. I got all dressed up and everything, even wore a tie.
When I got there, Serge and his brother were already there.
"Samuel! Glad you could make it." Even though Serge's been living in the states for ten years, his Russian accent still hasn't gone away.
"I told you I'd be here. Now where's the bar?" I was pretty sure I'd never make it through an art show sober.
After I got a few drinks into me, I felt much better. I looked around, took in the scenery. The show was in one big room, warehouse style. You know, with tall ceilings, and all the air ducts showing. I guess it was supposed to make it look modern. The artwork was downright ridiculous. I could never get into modern art. What asshole can't take a bucket of paint and throw it at a piece of paper? Maybe I'm just not profound enough to understand. I started to listen to what some of those artsy types were talking about, even did a little "socializing." Learned some interesting things. After awhile, I found a conversation worth getting involved in.
"I hear the artist is into some pretty weird shit." I looked to my right to see who was talking, and it was some hot shot looking guy with slicked back hair and shiny shoes.
"Oh yeah?" I asked him. "What kind of shit?" At this point, I'd had more than a few drinks.
"You know. Kinky. Spiked collars, handcuffs. Just weird shit." The guy was obviously glad to have an audience.
"Where'd you hear that?"
"I"ve got my sources." I was pretty sure he was just talking to hear his own voice.
"Yeah, if you say so. Besides, lots of people are into S&M. It's not that weird."
"No, I'm telling you. He's different. He likes his women young, and I hear he's got some sort of.. fruit fetish."
"Fruit? You mean like, apples and oranges? And how young?" I was starting to believe him. I mean, who makes up shit like that?
"Young. Like fourteen. And yeah, apples, oranges, bananas."
"Bananas?"
"Yeah, especially bananas. I told you. It's weird."
"That is weird." I agreed. "I think I need another drink."
After another vodka and tonic, I decided to look for Serge and his brother. I was about over the art scene. And I'd learned more about Serge's brother than I ever hoped to know. I found Serge talking to a woman in front of a painting.
"Hey man," I said as I put my hand on his shoulder. "I think I'm gonna duck out. These people are starting to freak me out."
"Alright. This never was your scene anyway, huh?" I humored him with a laugh, then started to walk away. "Hey, see if you can't find Anton before you leave. He'd like to know you were here." Looking for his brother was the last thing I wanted to do, but I told him I'd try.
After a minute or two of looking, I'd about given up when I spotted him near the door. He was standing with his back to me, talking to a girl. Girl couldn't have been older than fifteen. Shit, I thought. What if that guy was right? The idea of a thirty-two year old man tricking some teenager into sleeping with him was enough to keep me from leaving. I'm not sure why, but that kind of thing drives me crazy. I decided to talk to him.
"Anton!" I called out as I got closer. "Hey buddy, how's it going?" It was a struggle to keep the anger out of my voice. The girl was looking at him in a way I really didn't like.
When he turned to face me, he was eating a banana. I don't know what happened after that. I must've lost it. Next thing I knew, I was being pushed