Longtime readers will know that Jane is one of our most vigilant and valuable citizens, with many peel credits to her name. While pounding the pavement recently, she came across a shocking scene in an otherwise attractive and well-maintained curbside succulent patch. This speckled specimen was already teetering on the wrong side of spoiled when it was peeled and its skin discarded. Now it lies where it fell, genuflecting to passersby, though whether in deference or spite, we will never know.
The travelers set out at dusk. The road to the restaurant was broken and strewn with obstacles. Bright lights outside the 99-cent store illuminated detritus best left in darkness. These lights were installed by local entities concerned about safety, to make the street appear more inviting, and to reduce unfortunate incidents and accidents that make customers wary. This worked for a time. But soon the peels became more brazen, and were no longer ashamed to show themselves in their true form. Watchout!
Miss Julie was just trying to mail a letter. She walked down to the post office, clutching the envelope in her fist. Inside was a thank-you card she’d been meaning to mail for months, to a work acquaintance who had given her a novelty mug for her birthday.
The writing of the card was a saga of its own. She spent weeks weeks halfheartedly reminding herself to buy a card at Walgreens, and waking up nights with a pang of guilt at her ungratefulness, especially since she used the mug every day for her morning coffee. She had been to Walgreens before to search for a card, and several times had abandoned the aisle after failing to find the perfect one. The classic flowered cards were all so boring, but the edgier ones risked missing the mark, and the fancy ones were too expensive…
Finally, on August 6, she forced herself to just pick one. It was a classic thank you card with a drawing of a vase of flowers, and the words “Thank You” curlicued around it. Proud of herself, she paid $4.99 (an acceptable price), wrote the card hastily and dropped it in the mailbox at the post office. On her way out, she narrowly missed this horrifying specter lying in wait at the curb, its evil reflection glimmering in the mirrored bumper of a parked car.
She avoided disaster and headed home. Later that afternoon, she remembered with a pang that she had forgotten to thank her frenemy Gail for her birthday gift, a tangerine-scented candle that had scented her bathroom nicely for a couple of months. She vowed to get the card the very next day.
On a lovely March day, our local peel aficionado, Jane put on her new shoes and stepped out of her pied-a-terre into the big city. She was on her way to visit friends for a picnic lunch of moules and escargot. Lost in thought, she glanced down at her lovely new shoes, and recoiled at this unappetizing mess, attempting to camouflage itself among the yellow safety lines in the crosswalk. Sacrilege! She notified watchoutbananapeel, and went on to the picnic.
Later that spring, a similar cluster of slimy street serpents lay in wait next to a safety cone. The nerve!
March 23, Chestnut & Powell. Crosswalk.
May 22, Broadway & Grant. Construction zone.
On May 29, a man named Boris chewed the last pulpy bite of his overripe banana and dropped the peel on the sidewalk. Immediately afterward, he vanished in a puff of smoke. Jane was on the scene and happened to catch the aftermath with her phone camera. Her haunting image captures Boris’s favorite Giants cap, its inner brim still soiled with Boris’s facial grime, lying beside the scorched peel.
Some experts say that this confirms rumors that the peels have started developing sophisticated technology to broaden their powers. Their leaders have long craved the ability to attack rather than just lying in wait. Was Boris the first of many to come?
The victim vanished from the bus stop.
watchoutbananapeel 