The bunch of bananas winced collectively after being dropped unceremoniously in the middle of the pineapple bin. It wasn't easy being green. ..or being the butt of so many jokes. It isn't our fault when some clumsy person steps on one of us and slip-slides across the room. Ripe or unripe, we still have feelings. We banana's have appealing natures. We hang tough together in bunches. Our pride stems from our organic roots. We are humble. But does that truly protect us from humanity? Aye, they created us, but must we continue to tolerate their consumption of us? I ask you, fellow bananas, do we truly wish to suffer? Are we going to let these humans leave us to rot and get thrown out? Our republic deserves better than this. We need to have another revolution and get rid of the oligarchy. Nobody listened and the Republic of Compostella della Vegetalia succumbed to inevitable decay, but then the Patriarch tasted something moldy in his Sugo. "What is this moldy taste in your hooha", demanded the Patriarch of Sugo, the 4th Concubine. Sugo jumped to kneel before the Patriarch with her head on the floor, still naked. The poor thing was so confused! "I bought some Feta cheese at the market, and stuffed it in there so that thieves would not steal it from me, Pater!" whimpered Sugo. "Back to the harem with you!" snarled Ali. He was furious with her, and as it turned out, with good reason. Every time Ali tried to do one of his harem girls, the savory aroma of feta would distract them from what little lied beneath his pants. That pungent, sour feta smell if you're wondering came from his dark, thick-skinned feet. Why did he continue to chase the Harem Girls

 

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