To Banana, or Not To Banana

It’s been five minutes since I took the hand of bananas in my palm and stared between them and the till in front of me. The numbers jeered as I looked on with my degree in global media.

It's been three minutes since I somehow managed to place a child lock on the till. Now, I can’t figure out how to get it off. I decided a minute ago to take offence to the fact that a child lock has bested me in a battle of wits.

Now, I weigh the options of my moral dilemma: do I place the bananas in the basket I found them in or take them with me? The latter is awfully tempting. In fact, it's tempting to take all of my groceries without placing a single coin in the register. When else does an empty supermarket present itself to you? By empty, I mean completely barren; no shoppers, no workers, just me, myself, and my stack of food. There’s also an empty pasta packet that occasionally performs cartwheels across the tiled floor like a tumbleweed in a Western film, if you’d like to add that to the list of Aldi’s current occupants.

I attempt one last futile tippity-tap on the till and watch with a weird feeling of rejection as the screen stares blankly back at me. The food I managed to scan waits in a polite row at the top of the clueless monitor. With a sigh, I push myself from the cramped space these poor workers spend their time in and present the bananas to the potentiality of two futures: forever crumpling in this barren shop or a forever home in my fruit bowl until death do us part. To banana, or not to banana.

I imagine them sitting all alone in the coldest part of Aldi, browning and growing disgustingly mushy. I make the decision that will alter these bananas’ course of life. With a humph, I proclaim: to banana.

The rest of my assortment is stuffed into a plastic bag. This sin is redeemed by a tossing of my remaining pocket change in the jar for tips. Then, at long last, me, myself, and my troop of future nourishment, exit the scene and disembark into the barren carpark. Together, we ride off in my dingy Toyota towards the setting sun, home.