🍌🍌🍌Think Netflix's SEX EDUCATION, but without the accents, and instead of pictures and sound, I put the words on the screen, and you paint the pictures with your mind.🥒🥒🥒
***
Some guys are showers. Some guys are growers. Then there's Peter. He...
Everything happens for a reason. That's what every adult I've ever known says when I ask a difficult question.
Why did my Mom's job transfer her from our home in New York, where I had lots of friends, to this boring suburb outside of Houston, where the guys are all dicks, and the girls all seem to love them for it?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why did the scheduling gods at the registrar's office put me in a health class with a bunch of jocks and mean girls?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why is Coach Krieger, a man who talks only of football, responsible for teaching sex education?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why did someone think it was a good idea to add a "lab" component to sex-ed, where boys and girls would partner up to learn how to put on a condom?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why did that same someone think that a banana would make a good stand-in for a penis?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
How did I get paired with Becky Spade, John Wayne High School's perennial homecoming queen and all-around mean girl?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why did we get the smallest banana in the class?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
I'm holding the world's smallest banana in one hand and a droopy condom in the other, when Becky Spade calls out to Coach Krieger.
"Um... his banana is, like, way too small," Becky Spade says.
Maybe it's her golden blonde hair or perfectly symmetrical features, but Becky Spade is one of those people who can turn heads just by walking into a room or uttering a few words. This time is no exception. Suddenly, everyone in the class is looking at me.
They're all paired off, boys with girls, and each team has a condom and a banana. But my banana really is the smallest in the room. It's as if everyone else has a footlong Subway sandwich, and all I have is half a bite of toast with a sad flap of turkey on top. Seriously, I've never seen bananas as big as the ones in the hands of my classmates. Their bananas are all on steroids, or something. They're massive, yellow props of phallic exceptionalism.
For a second, the world stops. I am mortified. Terrified actually. I am certain that my secret is out. That the small banana in my hand isn't an accident. That I got it for a reason, and that the reason has something to do with the truth in my pants.
But then another thought occurs to me. Isn't it our banana? Doesn't this droopy condom belong to me as much as it does Becky Spade? We're partners after all. And so maybe that thought explains why I extend my arm and offer the world's smallest banana to Becky Spade. Because it is going to be a logistical challenge to fit a droopy condom on a tiny, curved banana that looks like swollen pinky finger. But it's our challenge, damn it.
Except that's not how Becky Spade sees it. And unfortunately, her words have this magical power to shape reality. At least, that's how it works here at John Wayne High School.
"Gross," Becky Spade says as she recoils from the banana in my hand. "Keep your little Peter away from me!"
Suddenly, the room erupts in laughter. And then, as if Becky Spade has somehow hacked into the minds of every kid in Coach Krieger's sex-ed class, the room begins to chant:
Peter's little peter!
Peter's little peter!
Peter's little peter!
Why are these sheeple my peers, I wonder?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why doesn't Coach Krieger do his job and stop them from chanting?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
How is that Becky Spade, without asking for or receiving permission to do so, reassigns herself to another lab group, leaving me alone with a droopy condom and a teeny-tiny banana?
Everything happens for a reason, Peter.
Why is that at lunch later that day, in front of the entire school, Nick Spears and a dozen other football players, pull down my pants for shits and giggles?
Why is it that Nick's fingers somehow got inside the elastic band that holds up my underwear so that the pantsing revealed my actual banana to the entire school?
Why is it that Nick has super-human strength -- enough to break off the button that holds up my pants and rip the elastic band that holds up my underwear?
Why is it that half the school seemed to have their phones ready to document my penis before I could cover my junk with what was left of my pants and underwear?
Because everything happens for a reason. And in my case, the reason everyone in school has a picture of my penis is because fate handed me a tiny banana in Coach Krieger's sex-ed class. Things would've different if I had a bigger banana, and here, I'm speaking both metaphorically and literally. But I have a small banana. And now everyone knows it.
Fuck my life.
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