“Banana,” they giggled, taunting her with a wave of their hands. They said her hair was the brown stub on top of the fruit and the peel was her skin and laughed and pranced away when she tried to deny it profusely. When she went home and cried, her mama scratched her head and asked,
“Why are you sad? If I rid of the yellow peel and the brown stub holding it together, I don’t think there’d be much of a banana left.”
