The other day I was walking down the boardwalk when I saw a monkey throwing a banana.
“Hey monkey,” I said. “Why are you wasting a perfectly good banana?”
The monkey looked at me and bared its teeth. “No garnish,” it said.
“BANANA. HAS. NO. GARNISH!”
It then pitched a banana at me, if you’ll believe that, and galloped off down the road.
I wiped bits of smushed banana off my jacket.
“What do you think, Judy?” I asked my miniature Schnauzer. “That was one bad-tempered monkey.”
Judy panted sympathetically.
The next day, I went back to the dock and, believe it or not, the same monkey was there, hovering menacingly over a pile of bananas.
“Stop, don’t throw!” I shouted, half-joking, until I saw the monkey turn to me with the most hateful expression in its beady eyes. “Oops. We better run.” Judy and I took off, accompanied by the thumping of bananas hitting the wooden dock as the monkey pelted them after us.
I don’t know why, but when we got home, I could not, for the life of me, stop thinking about that monkey. Its words and expressions haunted me like a phantom wackadoodle planted on my chest.
So, at the crack of dawn the next morning, I set out with a pack full of supplies. When I arrived at the docks, I found a deserted heap of bananas in the middle of the pier – but no monkey.
Working quickly, I unpacked the contents of my bag and began laying them out in neat little piles around the bananas. Then, I sat back and waited.
An hour later, along came the monkey, loping on all four limbs. When it saw me, it stopped dead, scraped its claws on the ground, and hissed.
“Don’t worry,” I said (admittedly partly to myself). “These are for you. Come look.” The monkey eyed me suspiciously, but shuffled over to see what I’d brought.
Gingerly, it stuck its hand in one of the piles, pinched the contents between its fingers and sniffed, before moving onto the next three and repeating the process. When it had finished, it licked its fingers and looked over at me tentatively.
“GARNISHES!” screamed the monkey, jumping and dancing around, nearly upsetting everything. When it was done celebrating, it came over and solemnly shook my hand.
“People think monkeys only eat bananas, so that’s what they bring me, day after day. I have been eating bananas for over fifteen years. It has been the most boring thing. I do love bananas, but sometimes you need to spice things up – you know?”
The monkey then gathered up all the garnishes and bananas in its arms, and disappeared down the boardwalk, snuffling to itself as it went.
“Well Judy,” said I. “One of the stranger episodes of my life. But by no means the strangest.” And with that, we went to get breakfast.
- Slice bananas crosswise.
- Melt chocolate/carob in a double boiler or microwave.
- Dip bananas in chocolate/carob and lay out flat on parchment-lined tray (stick with toothpicks if using).
- Sprinkle with garnishes (heh garnishes).
- Stick in freezer for an hour or more (depending how frozen you want them).
- Eat with all your monkey friends (but watch out for the ones who throw things).