Local Man Discovers Single Banana Has Developed Luxury Lifestyle, Personal Brand

Dennis Pruitt walked into the Fairmeadow Market on Tuesday expecting a quick, dignified errand: one banana, for a snack, to eat in a car. He walked out forty minutes later holding a receipt the length of a bedsheet and a new respect for tropical fruit.

It started innocently. Dennis spotted a lone banana in a basket near the register, glowing under a tiny spotlight like a museum artifact. A small card beside it read, in elegant cursive, Hand-Greeted at Dawn.

“Hand-greeted?” Dennis whispered. “By who?”

“By Gerald,” said a cashier, gesturing toward a man in a vest who nodded solemnly from the produce section. Gerald, it turned out, did not work for the store. Gerald worked for the banana.

The price was not displayed on the card, which Dennis should have recognized as a warning. When the banana was scanned, the register played a short fanfare and the screen asked whether he would like to add the Heritage Peel Protection Plan. Dennis declined. The register looked disappointed in him.

“That’ll be fourteen dollars,” the cashier said, “plus a nominal ripeness fee.”

“What’s the ripeness fee?”

“It depends how ripe it is. Right now it’s at peak. We call this the Goldilocks Surcharge.”

Dennis looked at the banana. The banana, as bananas do, looked slightly smug. He thought of all the bunches he had bought over the years, five or six at a time, tossed carelessly into the cart like common pocket change. Had he been rich all along? Had he been living like a sultan?

He tried to negotiate. He offered to pay in loose coins, a coupon for dish soap, and a heartfelt story about his grandfather. The cashier accepted only the story, which she rated three stars and returned.

By then a small crowd had gathered. A woman in the cereal aisle said she had once paid nine dollars for a single grape and still thought about it at night. A teenager said bananas were basically a subscription service now. Somebody started a slow clap, though nobody knew who it was for.

In the end, Dennis paid. He carried the banana to his car in both hands like a newborn prince, buckled it into the passenger seat, and drove home at a respectful twenty miles per hour.

He did not eat it. It seemed rude. Instead, he placed it on the mantel next to his bowling trophy and a photo of his wedding, where it now lives rent-free, which is more than Dennis can say for himself.

At press time, the banana had been invited to two dinner parties and Dennis had not.

Inspired by It’s one banana, Michael. What could it cost, ten dollars?.