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Banana Bastard

This short story is inspired by this true story.

The seagull carried the banana in its beak, guardedly - head darting left and right to spot any would-be banana grabbers. This is it, thought the seagull. This is what will set me apart from all the rest. Everybody knows seagulls are bastards, but I will be the biggest bastard of all. The Banana Bastard.

The seagull found a shadowy corner and began to peck at the banana, carefully moving up the seams so the skin stayed largely intact. The banana flesh mushed into mash.

Those other idiots have been doing the same old thing forever, it thought. Flying over humans and dropping plops so the squit hits the hair or face if you’re lucky. Maybe a dive bomb sandwich grab, just before the long-awaited first bite. Anything to spoil their day.

But it’s all been done! This’ll show them. This’ll show them all.

The seagull took the now empty banana skin in its beak - classic in appearance: three dangly arms; stalk holding it all together. The seagull was ready. With a couple of aggy flaps it scuffed up into the air and soared above the seafront.

The pier. There was a clown earlier. There he is.

This is gonna be so good.

The seagull circled the air high above the clown on the pier.

Wait. Wait, not yet. Oh god, now. Now - this is perfect.

The seagull released the banana skin and watched. The banana skin fell surprisingly gracefully through the air, down towards the pier.

The clown finished tying a knot in a freshly blown balloon snake. He started twisting it into a dog with the practiced speed of someone who only ever made dogs.

The banana skin landed, splat, just behind the clown.

The little girl stretched her hands out, ready for her balloon dog. The clown put the flaccid rubber tail in his mouth and sucked a bubble into it. Bwop! It’s a poodle! He held it aloft to show the crowd, stepping backwards for effect.

The clown’s foot landed on the banana skin.

The banana skin slipped under the clown’s weight, whose smile froze as his foot shot out from underneath him. The other leg whipped up to balance but his massive shoe kicked the little girl right in the face as the balloon dog flew out of his hands, up and over the doughnut stand.

The girl screamed her kicked head off, barely noticing the balloon heading straight for the bubbling doughnut fryer until a speck of boiling oil just pipped on the dog’s nose and BANG! It popped.

The doughnut seller jumped out of her skin, jolting the stand with the dodgy leg that was just about to give up the ghost, and, yep, there it went, and the whole stand crumpled.

The screaming girl kicked the sprawled clown right in the nuts as payback and he’d barely had time to enjoy the pain before the boiling oil slashed down on his face, sizzling sickeningly as it fixed on his painted grin forever.

From above the chaos the seagull listened to the howls of agony, calmly assessing the scene. Only one thing left to do. It swooped down lower and, just at the right moment, plopped out a sloppy white shit.

The poo streaked through the sky and landed, with minimal splatter, right in the clown’s gasping mouth.

Then the seagull, happy with its work, went off to find some chips.

What an absolute bastard.

1st August 2019

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Simon Panrucker playing a blue recorder