Banana Vixen in Mushroom Land

Bananas. They taste good in the mouth. My high-school girlfriend also thought they tasted good in the pussy and ass.

That’s right, little Val was quite a vixen, at least back in those days. This is a story about how she died.

It wasn’t in high school. And it certainly wasn’t in junior high — not only for the obvious reasons (why? because, dumbass, I just told you I dated her in high school), but for the supplementary fact that she was a by-the-book goody-two-shoes all her junior high years. The kind of girl that always tied her shoelaces in pretty little bows. And that always covered her schoolbooks (just like her teachers wanted her to!) with store-bought book covers with little hearts on them. I bet she even had prancing pony wallpaper on her bedrooms walls. Bah! I’m glad I didn’t date her in junior high. She would have been about as fun as my right hand after thirty odd years.

What was Val like in high school? Why and how did she change? Believe it or not (seriously, I don’t give a shit if you believe me . . . no seriously, I really don’t care), she changed most directly because she was a goody-two-shoes. You see, we were instructed to read this book called L’Etranger. It is by Camus, and it’s actually quite good, but I didn’t know that back then. Why? Because I, like everyone else in my fucking class, and probably everyone else in the fucking world in high school except Val, didn’t actually read the goddamn thing. Because we didn’t like doing our schoolwork. If you are shaking your head in disapproval, do me a favor, stop reading this and go stick a banana up your own ass, because I probably write more honestly than you, and I’m doing it on a seventh grade education, if you add up all the days I actually spent in school.

So there was Val, sitting in her pretty little dress, with her perky fucking boobs just asking to come out — but no, she kept them well and modestly hidden, little prude that she was — and there I was sitting next to her in class, staring at those boobs and wondering if I should excuse myself for a quick trip to the bathroom, if you catch my drift, when the teacher asked the question: “What is this book all about?” Well, most of us were silent, but then you got poor little Val, who actually read the goddamn thing, and she starts to talk about how the book says that life has no meaning, no purpose, that we’re all just rats in a goddamn maze, and next thing you know — and I’m talking about a serious metamorphosis — you can tell she actually starts to believe what she is saying. And after class I heard her talking to her best friend Jenny about how maybe life has no point, and maybe she ought to loosen up a little.

In swooped your humble author: “Hey, I can help you loosen up a little.”

“Yeah?” I could actually hear the suppressed sex asking to come out.

I just smiled. They say a smile is worth a thousand words to a dumb blonde.

Banged her that night. And the next night. And then the next day and night. And that went on all through the rest of that year, although not always quite at that rate (you know, e.g., period days), but it was really quite good, and she really quite rocked, and I taught her not only how to fuck, but how it’s ten times better high.

But she was determined to take it to another level.

“Hey,” she said one day about a year into our relationship, her eyes wide with wonder at all kinds of sick possibilities. “Look at this banana!”

That night after watching for five minutes I dumped that bitch for a new girlfriend. I can hold my own, but I will not compete with a fourteen inch banana. I hear even her next boyfriend, black if I may add, gave up the ghost as well.

So there she was, all alone. She disappeared off the map for so many fucking years, and then finally I heard through the grapevine from my friend Vinnie, who heard from his friend Alex: “Hey, did you hear what happened to little Val?

Vinnie: No

Alex: Ah, shit man, you wouldn’t believe it. Although I guess I shouldn’t say “little Val” anymore.

Vinnie: Blew up?

Alex: Like a fucking cow, man.

Vinnie: So where’s she at?

Alex: Her fucking grave, man.

And then, five minutes later, on a separate phone call…

Vinnie: All the way up her snatch, man!

Me: All the way?

Vinnie: All the way.

Me: I’ve seen that before.

Vinnie: But she left it in, man.

Me: For how long?

Vinnie: A fucking month, bro. A fucking month. Fruit flies hatched in it. Infected her pussy, worked their way up through her system. Doctors said it was a fucked up death, flies literally everywhere, buzzing and hawing, and leaving little fly shits and vomit and just all goddamn fucked up, man. They actually used those words. They said, “It was a fucked up death.”

Me: What the fuck was she on?

Vinnie: Mushrooms, man. Mushrooms. Who the hell would have introduced little Val to that shit?

Me: Oops.

Yeah, oops.

In memoriam val. High school sexpot. College fatty. Breeding ground for flies.


Thank you for reading my dainty story.

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Onward and upward!

— O.S.