Tag Archives: Charlie Banana^*+++++&

September 14, 2026 · 9:14 pm

00510602

There’s no way I can take a decent shot of the golden dome topped courthouse from the end of Justice Ave. and also include the street sign. I give up this morning. Besides, the sim’s going offline in 299, 298, 297 seconds. 294… must return to home and reorient.

—–

10:09:

Better. About as good as I can do. Now I can rest easy tonight, hah. But where is Tony B.; the talking banana; Shelley and Okama the two permanent members we know about of the band Silver that is slated to play at least a 5 night gig in this town of Bandanaboro in the upper east west central part of the Omega continent? Shouldn’t one or two or maybe all 4 of ’em be posing in this picture? Who is taking the picture? Is the last name of Tony B. actually Bandana like the banana he’s talking to now? Why would Luigi’s send over a talking banana instead of the banana topping he actually ordered? What’s wrong with descending into the sandy colored Body in town from its Head, dumb, very dumb being the implication for doing so? Dumb Man. 4 eyes. 4 pairs of eyes. What do they see? Do they see me? Can I see them? Why can’t I see them? Is it this town? Is it this courthouse, this avenue that turns into Holy Hero Street at its door? End of Justice here, beginning of Justice down there. Will Justice be served? How do we untangle all the involved Silvers now, throw in the California town of Silver Lake formerly known as Edendale as well? Why is AI hallucinating a well in or very near Bandana NC? Does it have to do with the well of information I received from the two owners of, well… here?

Rock &… One Strange Rock. Is this Earth or is this one strange rock somewhere else? Is it quartz? Mica? All of the above or none of the above? I can’t sleep after all. I’m going to get up and have some water, watch some more Youtube videos, maybe pop open another non-beer. Starfield always seems to do the trick. I’ll try one of the ones where the pace across the planets is faster. Wish me luck!

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September 12, 2026 · 3:33 pm

00510516

“Silver?” I exclaimed about the name he just uttered. Like my band. At least temporarily, until Okama Majo returns from being sick on Pill. Poor guy. 5 night gig I knew, then back on the streets, back to facing the threat of abject poverty.

“Yes, Silver as in Frankie, Silver as in Charlie… Charles. First white woman in North Carolina to be executed, murder being the crime that fit the punishment, eye to eye style. As your ape-like human civilization has a penchant for,” the banana being before me continued. “Yet she claimed her husband deserved it as he abused her and threatened her own life. Many in the Burke County community where she lived backed her story. Yet only one made it back to a final resting spot on home soil queerly near by but not in Silver Chapel (Cemetery) in Bandana — like me! Instead: the smaller Silver Cemetery in Kona a little over 2 miles away. Will you help me parse out this tangle of Silvers throw in Silver Lake as well and find out what went wrong? Can you help me find… Justice?”

“Down Holy Hero Street and take a left at the courthouse,” I wanted to joke but held my tongue. Which made me think of the statue at the end of Justice facing the courthouse. Seemingly credited to a Depraved Monkey’s Club [sic: Den] if I remember correctly. Is this humanity as a whole? Will the aliens who may be the same as AI allow us to continue in this way?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, California, Mythopolis, North Carolina, Omega, 0516, 0051, Bandanaboro

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September 11, 2026 · 8:00 am

00510512

I was promised a personal favorite Jack in the Box but instead received Pizza in what was suppose to be a climactic ending point for the King and Queen line of eating establishments facing west. Tired of burgers and ice cream, I finally caved in and got over my grudge with them in a situation that really wasn’t their doing and gave Luigi’s a call at 11:00 on September 11, PM not AM. I couldn’t afford morning food by this time. Ordered the house special banana, attracted by the low cost and also, a bit, the potential exotic flavor. Never had that topping before, hmm. Imagine my surprise when it didn’t come with the pizza but instead showed up several minutes later at my door all anthropomorphized and shite. “You’re late!” I decided to jest at this uncanny intersection of Meat and Fruit.

Thoughts of slicing him up then and there and putting him on my pizza to close the raw deal I felt I got were quickly set aside as he turned out to be quite the intelligent yellow dude with a strange tale to tell indeed. Settling back on the couch he eventually wandered over to, it began thusly:

“I had to divide off from the rest of your meal in order to gain a mouth, eyes, brain. The house special was just a ruse to get you to order me, here, now. We know that you are poor, perhaps abjectly so.”

“Banana… split?” I said, still not quite over the slicing inclination at this point and eyeing the case of knives on the counter out of the corner of my eye.

“Precisely. I know you think we’re just bananas, me and all my associates, but when we bunch together we become larger than ourselves individually. I am the end product of that transmutation.”

“Just… bananas?” I uttered in a similar vein, stuck in idiom mode. I imagined them altogether in a darkened room conspiring to drive me nuts in the end. I had to avoid that conclusion. I edge closer to the counter, clandestinely select the largest one to get the deed done quickly.

“We hope to make you think otherwise,” and it is here he introduced himself properly and it is here I decided not to end his life with a cut cut cut.

“I am more than Banana now, the sum of my parts,” he declared proudly, sitting up straighter on the couch in front of me and even seeming to grow larger with the action but maybe that was just my perspective. “I am *Band*ana, a whole band of entities.”

“Like the borough?” I say. “Like the borough we’re in?” I followed, waving all around with my free hand.

“Precisely.” I put back down the knife behind my back. Being in a borough band myself right now, I had to hear this out. tbc

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January 18, 2026 · 3:00 pm

00490204 (bottoms 02 (all cracked up))

She hadn’t tried in 100s of days, maybe 100s of weeks. She was tired of pussyfooting around. “Permission to come aboard!” she shouted over in as confident of a tone as she could muster given the circumstances. No answer for a while, maybe 100s of seconds, then: “Permission DENIED.” The old, crusty sea chaplain turned captain who didn’t know when to give up himself wanted to reply immediately but was fixing a hole on the starboard side (away from her and also you, the reader or readers) and couldn’t be bothered at first. But: one hole fixed and two more appear, it seems, like apples for banana. He contemplated just ignoring the poor, foolish girl, standing over there probably in just flesh and bits of white, like she does (he imagined). The man: only red. But still he knew they were man and wife, as close as one could get without multiple marriage vows. He had to hold himself partly responsible. Given that he was the one who married them, way way back in the day. “Go AWAY. We’ve said our bits, our parts. It’s up to YOU to make it work.” Red and white red and white, he thought. Surely they can better coordinate all that, divide the hues up in a fairer, more democratic way. And *not* have to enter his unrepairable *republican* shipp, pheh. No, he would stand steadfast against change (what was he *thinking*).

“I KNOW who you are,” she tried again. “You will NOT get this shipp with its broken rigg and all to float, no way jose. Not without MY help.” (TBC)


dreams of repair

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December 4, 2025 · 7:48 am

00480613 (“Endless Window”)

Harlequin moves from the darkened corner of the courtyard into the house with Columbine, Pierrot having shuffled off below the event horizon like a dying orbital sun. The oldest extant animation ends here with the created black hole, paint applied gelatin finishing its run.

—–

“Now let’s get to the other one, Daisy. Father you say?”

“Father I say.”

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December 2, 2025 · 3:30 pm

00480610 (1st Pierr/)

“You see? You SEE?? Columbine. Revealing strangely bright lit Edward Pierrot coming from the North. He doesn’t know what will backstab him in a minute. Or back *stick* him as in a stab. This is important. This is *crucial*. She should have never opened that door in the wall and neither should we.”

“Simmer down, Mouse,” said Philip Strevor to his oft times housemate, still unable to beat his high score at his best game, NUMBER not to be taken down yet. 28064212. “Just start over at the beginning, pal,” he said while also looking up at the castle’s video feed he just walked in on. Mouse: always jabbering, always theorizing. Until it ends.

“How about the middle,” said Mouse, and then went there.

“The banana moon hangs low in the blue night-sky, yellow-ish or maybe even green-ish, sun nowhere to be shone now,” he describes. “In the shadow made by the walls the stick keeps poking, keeps jabbing, turning him ’round and ’round and eventually gone. Leaving Columbine for…

“…. Harlequin. This is the tragic tale of our Edward, Philip.”

“Edward… Philip?” TBC

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October 30, 2025 · 1:00 pm

00480412 (in your face to-)

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September 22, 2025 · 9:33 pm

00480206 (in your face)

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April 19, 2025 · 8:46 pm

00460405

I took another day off to explore the town more. I’d taken a lot of days off lately. Perhaps I was already pretty bored with the mayor’s job, I don’t know. I found myself wandering… and wondering. Here I sit in Downtown’s subway station watching a train that never stops. Where is it going? Where’s it been? Never here apparently, or never gathered people here or dropped them off. I move on…

… to an abandoned petrol station, wandering and then wondering about the name Clyde on the window over there behind the tires. I knew the town was formerly called Blue Ball or Blue Balls so that didn’t seem to fit, despite the name Clyde being applied to a lot of towns across our fair country of America back in the day. Like one in Ohio where famed American author Sherwood Anderson grew up, along with U.S. independently affiliated senator and so-called father of the TVA George Norris and a couple of other famous people, including a Civil War Union general I can’t recall the name of.

I know, I’ll go ask Charlene. But maybe Emily would be a better target, having been here in The Burg longer. What’s her story, why did she move off the Makah Indian Reservation after being raised there? Something about Wolvie? — probably something about Wolvie. So that ropes in Charlene who’s the sister of what clearly is a shapeshifter in this here town, probably a werewolf by the sound of it. And he recognized me (!). In that service station with the black and white wolf poster over in Juho. I wonder how Newt is doing over there (her thoughts deflect). I wonder if he’s done anything with Newtonia since I’ve been… away.

That graffiti artist over yonder (she triangulates between useless subway and abandoned petrol station, a right one it appears). Maybe they will know something about Clyde. Worth a try.

She approaches, notices the cigarette in both his mouth and spraying hand at once. James Smoker he quickly becomes in her mind. Until she learns the truth.

(to be continued)

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January 6, 2025 · 7:41 am

00450412

“Susan was a goner, Fink. You essentially killed her with your attack at the beach. But you were only defending Jack, who would have gotten killed himself if you hadn’t intervened. If *Fern* hadn’t intervened. You first saw him — remember? — across Susan’s sprawled out body, his green matching your flesh, his square matching your round.”

“I remember,” said Fink. “I– didn’t mean to kill her.”

“*Told* you to control that freak-ish green arm better,” reprimanded Jack, then felt bad about it. “I mean, I guess you were defending me and all still.”

“I *was*.”

“*Anyway*,” said Princess Pinky Gumm, “I knew her essence could be put to better use than keeping her alive for another day or three at best until she succumbed to those obviously fatal injuries. So I used that energy, that essence to heal myself. Remember? I was possessed by The Lich. *I* wasn’t going to get any better.” Better her than me, Princess Pinky Gumm thought but didn’t say aloud. Was she 100% sure Susan wouldn’t recover? Actually: no. She had been selfish. Susan was a renegade cyborg killer, programming triggered by an electrical shock from a giant Acid River eel. But maybe, just maybe, she would have recovered. But that left the killer part intact still, she tried to rationalize. Yes, better her than me (for death), she reinforced to herself.

“How?” says Fink.

“I’m both a physicist and psychic trained at world esteemed Cal State, Fink. The answer would be too complicated for your meager brain to comprehend. Given you just made an F minus on what I would consider the easiest test on Earth.” Princess… Pink(y)… Gum(m), she reviews the glaringly obvious three-parter, and looks over at his blank, human face. So typical. At least fellow human Susan had killer written all over hers. After the eel. Kill or be killed, she thought once more. Yes, her complicated arrangement of physical-psychical interactions used for the transfer were justified.

(to be continued)

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