Boomerangs come and go,
but the banana boomerang
won’t return.
Forsaken nourishment,
my hungry hand propels thee.
So long, banana boomerang.
Potassium vessels are not meant
to be airborne, nor invaded by ants.
The Banana Boomerang has
a vibrating frame,
a rotating center,
uneasy passenger windows,
covered by a yellow
protective shell
which now has split open.
The ant-henchmen pillage
through the leak in the spaceship.
They wear black jumpsuits
and three pairs of boots.
The Matriarchal command post
transcribes babble into their slave minds
via shiny metal Bluetooth speakers.
A red alarm flares.
The henchmen have peeled an opening
into the banana boomerang.
Security has been compromised.
Thus, the Banananeer
brandishes his squishy banana-blade
to defend the ripe, golden vessel
and its mild-mannered crew
from the cruelty of pirates.
“I’m the Banananeer,” claims the speckle-sized bananoid.
“I was born to protect the integrity of this ship
but I’m alone. Thus, I've been
cornered in the main bridge
while the fiber crew remains lethargic,
snoozing in a deep cryogenic state.
As the henchmen surround me.
I think about my family,
I drop my banana-blade
and my finger
reaches toward his belt detonator.
This captain has to fly with the ship.”
And now, my gruesome galactic hand
clasps the banana boomerang
and takes it
with hyperspeed.
The henchmen and their babbled minds
continue to ransack the ship
at zero gravity.
The banana has been taken
by my hungry and frustrated self.
The Banananeer, farewells the fruit basket.
There’s no turning back.
This banana has been boomeranged
and nobody will have it.
CREDITS
TOMAS TEDESCO, NARRATOR, HANGRY GALACTIC HAND
A BROKEN BANANA AS THE BANANA BOOMERANG
THE ANTS AS THE HENCHMEN
QUEEN ANT AS THE MATRIARCHAL COMMAND POST
THE BANANANEER AS THE BANANANEER
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