I wrote this story, you see, quite a while back, and bizarrely I’ve not been able to find anyone to publish it. Not ‘bizarrely’ because I wrote it, but bizarrely because… well, who could resist a title like How I Accidentally Fell Over A Crate Of Bananas And Ended Up Saving The World? Um, most publishers can, it seems! Mind you, they must have a long habit of resistance built up so maybe it’s not their own fault. But still. I shall share a snippet with you all, and if you can possibly think of a publisher who MIGHT be interested – do tell!
At this point in the story, the narrator Jesse, having fallen over said crate of bananas near a dilapidated warehouse, has found himself mixed up with some rather unnerving mafia type criminals…
I’m getting to the point of thinking that it really might not be a bad thing if the warehouse collapses on us, when the blokes lead me to a room with this guy in it. He’s one of those people that the moment you see them you know they’re not just “this guy” but “The guy,” and the thugs either side of me are beginning to look pretty friendly in comparison.
“Who’s this?” he says.
“Found him with the bananas, Mr M.”
I have this insane desire to giggle, because the way the bloke says it, it sounds like I’m a spider or something – only then I remember what people do to spiders they come across unexpectedly, and I’ve suddenly lost the mood. I’m like, okay, I really don’t want that to be my epitaph. Here lies Jesse. We found him with the bananas.
“What’s your name?”
There’s this pause for a second and I’m not meaning to be rude or anything, it’s just I have this feeling that if I open my mouth I’m not going to tell him what I’m called, I’m just going to start whimpering “Oh God oh God, don’t kill me.” So I kind of gulp first, and then say “Jesse.”
“Jesse. Stupid name. What are you doing here?”
Okay, there are sensible answers and there are cool answers, but what you say to some underworld Mr Big is probably not supposed to be “I was looking for bananas.” Have I just upgraded myself from spider to monkey? I’m not sure I’d want to be Mr M’s monkey – and anyway, my two guys are now standing against the wall behind him and I can’t help thinking he’s already got all the monkeys he needs.