Story-time with the Four Bananas + Guests. (No.27)

Happy Tuesday everybody! I hope you all have a lovely day. My thanks as always go to my bananas for their continued fine works. Once again, we are joined by the dynamic duo that is D.S. Scott and J.P. Royan. Enjoy everybody.

Therapeutic Pickle by C.S. Bailey

Harry had been married for fourteen years. Currently, he and his wife are in therapy, desperately trying to work through their issues.
Recently they have been trying to spice up their sex life by bringing in food, role playing and a whole host of new positions.

One night during a night of passion, Harry proceeded to eat a pickle as he penetrated her from behind. His wife liked the crunching sound.
“I want you to put it in my bum,” his wife panted.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked.
“Yes!”
“You asked for it.”
 “Not the pickle!” His wife exclaimed angrily.

A Bedtime Story by Nav Logan

Mr and Mrs Rabbit lived on the outskirts of town, near the local dump. It wasn’t ideal. In fact it was a bit of a hole, but it was home.

They often struggled to make ends meet, and Mr Rabbit sometimes brought his kids down to the town’s allotment to ‘borrow’ a few vegetables from their better off neighbours

Winter was on its way, and the nights were getting longer, making their lives even harder.

The family settled down to a dark time of X Factor and I’m not really a Celebrity, so get me the feck out of here.

The Dealer by Bryan Thomas

Kyle approached the shadowy figure in the dimly lit alley. "Have you got the stuff?"

The figure took a block covered in silver foil out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Kyle took the block and opened one corner. "It doesn't smell right, is this cut?"

"I don't do adulterated stuff, man." The figure said, pulling another block out of his jacket pocket. "Try this."

Kyle sniffed the merchandise. "That's better, but you're holding back on me."

The figure produced another block.

"That's it! That's the good stuff. What's it called?" said Kyle.

"Green & Black's 70% Cocoa."

WHY? by Rick Haynes

I am awake.

Yet I am not here.

Sleep is beckoning me like a moth to a golden flame and I can taste the call of freedom as my mind yearns to fly free from my body.

Was it only recently that my feelings caressed my soul and heart, through throbbing ruby veins? Are they not the very same feelings that now urge me, to sleep, to slumber, and to dream?

Thus I yield to my world beyond imagination.

I so easily succumb, for I know that I’ll be travelling at the speed of light when I leave this wheelchair.

Symphony by D.S. Scott

Jack waved his hands back and forth slowly, orchestrating the symphony in his head. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers down on invisible piano keys as his hands flowed through the air. Somewhere deep in his mind, Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played. He too was deaf, in a way. But only to the screams and only for a few moments more. When he opened his eyes he was back in his basement with his soon to be victim. With the knife in hand, he pointed it, singing softly, “It’s all music to my ears, the melody of your fears.”

Wonga by J.P. Royan

Caller: "Sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you say 5853% APR to borrow just £250?"

Call centre: "Yes sir, that's correct".

Caller: "That's incredible, not in a good way! How on earth can you justify such a percentage?" 

Call-centre: "You'll find it's a competitive rate in this sector sir."

Caller: "Competitive! It's fucking robbery mate. Charging the poorest members of the population the highest interest rates known to man. I mean........really...........how do you sleep at night?" 

Call-centre: "Please refrain from swearing sir. Would you like to proceed with your application sir?". 

Call-centre: "hello Sir?"

Caller: "Yes... yes please".