The Banana Peel That Lauched a Career

         This is a story that ends with a banana peel. But it starts with a dog, a suspicious spot on the carpet, and an exploding head.

         And please don't mind me. I'm not really in the story. I'm just your story-teller, your narrator, your explanation, exclamation, examination, -giver.

         I'll begin by introducing you to Snarky Barky SubWoofer, the hero of this story's dog. I mean the hero's dog of this story. I mean, the story's hero's dog. And of course the hero, J. Jeremiah Johnson. The J stands for John, actually, but he's embarrassed by that so he doesn't want anyone to know.

         J. Jeremiah Johnson's head exploded at precisely 7:44 AM, Monday morning, the twenty-ninth of August, exactly sixteen minutes before he was expected at work. Snarky Barky SubWoofer was not expected anywhere, except outside for his morning toilet break. He didn't make it. For that matter, neither of the roommates made their morning explanations.

         I would describe the details of the itty bitty bits of gray matter and cerebral fluid staining the ceiling, walls, and floor of J. Jeremiah Johnson's apartment as well as blood making particularly interesting splash patterns about the place, but actually, I'm talking metaforkliftly. His brain didn't actually, literally explode. He just got irritated, put the dog in it its kennel (not that anything could really contain Snarky Barky SubWoofer, escape artist extraordinary), and began cleaning up the spot, resigning himself to being late to work.

         Things got awkward though, when someone broke the door down trying to get to J. Jeremiah Johnson. You could hear the cracking sound of the door shattering, splinters flying everywhere. Again, I'm speaking in similars. Someone banged on the door really loud.

         J. Jeremiah was trying to clean up the spot, and was only halfway done. He thought to himself how he should have been on his way to work right now. He opened the door to peer into the angry green face of the Hulk's older, buffer brother, known as Marion Sue Marion, former NFL linebacker and resident loan shark. He was, rather unfortunately, named after John Wayne with a little inspiration from a Johnny Cash song.

         "Aggoogharrrgaaa!" roared Marion Sue Marion, spittle shooting out of his mouth like machine gun fire and leaving little acid holes in J. Jeremiah Johnson's apartment and on his face. You could hear the sizzling sounds as it ate through couch, carpet, and skin. Admittedly, I am speaking in metamorphosis again. Hulk-spit was on J. Jeremiah's face, though.

         At this point in the story, a rather innocent, unassuming man by the name of N. Rotarran started walking downstairs from another apartment, heading to J. Jeremiah's apartment in order to offer a bunch of bananas as a welcome-to-the-apartment-complex gift.

         "I don't have your money!" shrieked our hero at Marion Sue Marion, trying to slam the door closed on Hulk's brother's face.

         Marion Sue Marion shoved and heaved against the door, actually tearing it off its hinges, groaring (um, growling and roaring, simpletaneously) the whole time. This time, I am not speaking in semi trucks. He really did.

         Our innocent banana-offer-er, T. Rotarran, had just come within enough distance to see the display of Hulk-itude. Like any bystander would, he immediately dropped the bananas and ran his pants off in the other direction.

         He bumped into another neighbor twenty feet away, and the two of them sprawled onto the concrete amidst yelps and cries for mommy. The neighbor, a tall, imposing woman not afraid of anything, demanded T. Rotarran tell her what had happened.

         "Hulk, Hulk, smashing doors!" gibbered our bystander.

         "What?"

         "New neighbor. Attached by Hulk!"

         "Attached? What do you mean by-" but the woman didn't have time to finish her question, because it was interrupted by a crashing sound coming from J. Jeremiah's apartment. Her eyes turned into golf balls (you know). "You mean attacked? Attacked?"

         "Yes! Attached!" agreed the bystander, and turned to continue running.

         J. Jeremiah, in the meantime, had just barely dodged a piledriver attach from Marion Sue Marion, who landed on the couch instead, breaking it in two.

         "Arrhhaaagoogoon!" came the Hulk's groar.

         "Eek!" yelped J. Jeremiah. He dived out the door and began running away. Snarky Barky SubWoofer looked up from where he was eating bananas. I told you he was an escape artist x-ray. Seeing J. Jeremiah running away from Marion Sue Marion, Snarky decided it would be a pretty good idea for him to start running as well. Man and dog ran together.

         "Blagagagasnarooooograh!" said Marion Sue Marion, pounding after them. But just as he was about to reach them, one of his feet landed on a banana peel that Snarky had left. His foot went forward and the rest of him went back, bam, bang, ka-blaming into the concrete. The great big loan shark, NFL linebacker, and Hulk's older brother was down.

         T. Rotarran, a rather slow runner, saw the great big Humpty Dumpty impersonation from a distance. And somehow, after that, the story spread to the apartments how J. Jeremiah Johnson and his dog, Snarky Barky SubWoofer, had defeated the terrifying Marion Sue Marion.

         How was a career launched? I hear you ask. Well, after that, J. Jeremiah Johnson took up a career as a superhero. Okay, again with the metaforgeries. In truth, he was fired from his job because he ended up so late to it, and because of that he decided to take up a new career. One as a police officer, so he could protect others from things like nasty loan sharks. The end.

         At least, that's how I think the story happened.