Dear Banana

Dear Banana,

I'm not going to beat around the bush here- it's over between us. I passed by you at the grocery store last night, and I just couldn't bring myself to keep pretending like I still love you. I think we should start seeing other people/produce... and if I'm being completely honest, the truth is I've been seeing other fruit for quite some time now.

It's not me, it's you. I've been eating more fruit than ever, in fact. And I don't care if that breaks your heart. You're boring. You have no juice, no lusciousness, no sensuality. Your flavor is pasty and underwhelming.

I'm not trying to give you a complex here, but you lack stamina in the bedroom... and the living room, and the kitchen; hell, no matter what room I put you in, you're covered in black spots and turning to mush three days after I buy you.

And your sense of humor- I can't even muster the energy to fake a chortle anymore. The jokes are SO worn out. They suck the joy out of my soul. You have two gags. "Oh look, someone slipped on my peel." Funny stuff... when I was three. "Look at me, I'm shaped like a phallus." Great. Once again, that was a great gag during my prepubescent years. OK. Maybe I still laugh at that one every once in a while. But it's all been just so stale recently.

What do you bring to the relationship? What do you have going for you? High in potassium? I'm sorry. That's just not enough anymore.

I'm moving in with Peach. Please don't try to contact me.

Sebastian Braff


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