Harold the banana sat on the pillar high above the town square of Atlantis, and sighed. Well, he would have sighed if he could have. But he was a banana. And bananas are unable to evoke such a desolate sound. Which is unfortunate, because if there was ever a time to sigh, it was now.
Harold had known his life would be short and dramatic from the first moment he could remember. Being the only banana living in Atlantis, it was bound to be an interesting and turbulent affair. And that was before all the flooding started
Harold felt pretty bad about this. As he should to be honest. It was his fault. But at the same time, who in their right mind would employ a banana as guard to the flood gates? A mad man, that’s who,. and this mad man went by the name of Jeremy.
While Harold had done the best he could do, he was woefully under qualified for this job, having no opposable thumbs, no arms attached to these non existent thumbs and no mouth to shout a warning of ‘Oh God, There’s Blue stuff coming through’ (Atlantis had never correctly named water…one of the many reason Gigomond, lord of this world decided it was time to end the crazy façade).
All in all, it had bene pretty bad day for Harold. He had to sit there, watch his home wash away, and then go brown and manky at the bottom of the ocean.
It’d been a shitter
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