A Day in the Life: Peirce Banana

Our friends in a fridge (via zaius)

In this feature, The Thrill will showcase a typical day of a member of the Kenyon Community: student, faculty, or staff. If you have nominations for people to be showcased, please share them in the comments or email us at thekenyonthrill@gmail.comToday, we feature a school-wide hero: a Peirce banana.

Anyone who’s anyone has crossed paths with a Peirce banana at some point in their lives. Whether you’re trying to take that ‘nana home to make some sweet sweet mouth mush, or just want to display your affections more publicly in the dining hall, you’re definitely not alone when you profess your love to this yellow fiend. Although Peirce bananas have a notoriously short stay in the public eye, they’re basically tenants in our hearts.  I took home three, more than one person has sheepishly admitted to me. The banana wasn’t even ripe but I ate it anyway because I don’t know when there’ll be more, said another. I don’t even like bananas but I always take one when they put them out, a person with serious FOMO lamented. The point is, the Peirce banana is a staple in our lives at Kenyon. I decided to interview a banana to get a better idea of how our heroes spend their days.

7:15 a.m.: I awoke from my slumber in the refrigerator when one of the banana ladies wrapped her warm, calloused hands around me. I wondered if today was my day. I looked down at my peel, blushing because a woman was seeing me without clothes. Regardless. I looked more yellow than I had in weeks. I was perfect for the picking.

7:24 a.m.: I found myself surrounded by other bananas as we were carried from the fridge into the servery. My mother, who bore us like fruit and was also a tree, always told me that it was no use to compare myself to others; and yet, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of my peers. I suddenly became self-conscious of the fact that I had not one, but two brown specks on my peel. The banana immediately to my right was spotless. I felt unloveable.

7:26 a.m.: The woman placed my gently in the middle of the basket, neither too backward or forward in the bunch. The bananas pressed against my side were pretty, yes, but I think I could compare. My father, an insect who pollinated my mother in a manner that could not be described as anything but extremely impersonal, never said a word to me. I’m not sure I know who he is. I think in this situation he would say something like this: “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He would be right, too. Who am I to decide whether I would be picked first, or second, or twentieth? Everyone likes their banana differently. There is no “perfect” banana.

7:31 a.m.: The doors to the servery opened exactly one minute late. I waited with bated breath. As the first few students trickled in, they wandered aimlessly throughout the room. I saw one eye the banana basket. I thought I gasped audibly, but then I remembered there is not a part of my body that can do that.

9:35 a.m: I experienced what I can only assume was the morning rush. Hands reached into the basket so quickly that I couldn’t even process what was happening. My peers were taken right before my eyes, and some were derobed shortly after. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being eaten. It was truly my only purpose in life, and yet, I was somehow failing. Perhaps nobody liked brown specks. Was it not the banana lady’s fault for picking me up too late? Or was it my own fault, the karma in my past life resulting in my reincarnation as an ugly banana? Who could I blame but myself?

9:36 a.m.: Somebody picked me up. Bananas can’t cry, but I think I was more moist than I had been all day.

9:47 a.m.:  I waited on the table as my savior ate the rest of their food. I silently pleaded that I be eaten soon. Bananas make you less nervous, I said. There’s potassium in me! I exclaimed, despite having no idea what potassium could be. I want to be in your body. I tried everything. And suddenly…

9:48 a.m.: I experienced the most tender sequence of my entire life. The boy wrapped his fingers around my slender, curved body, getting a feel for the peel. Slowly, starting with my head, he pulled back the skin that surrounded me. I felt new. I felt free. He touched parts of me that nobody had seen before. He looked at me so lovingly, and with such great care, that I knew in that moment everything would be okay. I felt lighter, and not because of the peel he removed from my body. In his embrace, I knew that I was safe and protected. I felt comfortable. I was ready, and I was ready for him. And then, he ate me.

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