![]() He reached into the ceiling compartment and pulled out a box wrapped in an old World War I army issue banana sack. Reaching up to the ceiling he pushed at a plank which moved out of the way. And with a smile he said, "I guess you're going to be needing this." He dragged the paint chipped chair over to the corner of the room, got up on it. He got up from his chair and stood there. If it wasn't so late in the evening I would swear he shed a tiny tear. He sat their stone faced until I told him about the banana flip, miss and slice. I know it was late but I went over and told him everything-about the dame, the gig and the banana trick. If anyone could help me pull this off it was him. Long retired he learned the trade over seas cooking banana fritters and stew for the yanks during WWI. Johnny Flynns mentor in this business was a crusty old slicer named Harvey Muldoon. I needed help fast and I knew just where to get it. Once I got in bed doubt crashed into my head like a 500 lb gorilla on a sack of Dole's finest. I said a quick thanks to my guardian slicer and headed home. an accident, or was it? Maybe the big guy up stairs was gunna save my sorry heiner once again. But then, I looked down at the table and saw the miracle banana perfectly sliced. As I reached for my hat my hand was shaking. Those words echoed over and over in my head. ![]() "Dole diva doles out dollars to the down and despondent" or "Lecherous love lorn Lothario leaves Linda Livingston livid". It was splashed across the society pages every week. I realized then she hadn't told me her name. Then she added, "Oh, and if you blow this gig you'll never work in this town again."Īnd with a slam of the door she was gone. ![]() She laughed and said as she walked to the door, "Whatever your usual fee is, I'll pay triple." She tossed her red hair back and said, "You got the job. "Yep, impressive is my middle name.", I stammered. My jaw dropped open in amazement and my eyes were big as saucers. I watched the banana spin slowly as it fell fell fell and slap, like some miracle you read about in those dime store slicer mags, the banana landed on the knife blade and was cut cleanly in two. My knife stabbed down through nothin' but air and dropped out of my hand on the table in front of me. I grabbed my number 7 knife and threw a banana in the air. These babies had to be stripped, sliced and dried to exact measurements if they were going to be handled by Dole's biggest clients. But this time they were gunna use banana chips instead of poker chips. Her father was the head of the Dole banana conglomerate and some Ivy League poindexter came up with the big idea to do the annual customer gala with a casino night theme. This was the kind of slicing gig that would make a hundred reputations or destroy a thousand more. And even though my gut was turning somersaults I knew I couldn't turn it down. The story she told would have turned the most jaded slicer green with banana envy. "Well you came to the right place", I said, mustering up what I hoped was a look of confidence. "I'm looking for Johnny Flynn Private Slicer." ![]() "I'm not looking for the dentist", she said. "We'll hello there sweetheart, the dentist office is next door", I said with a smile. the kind of girl that made old men suck in their gut and young men puff out their chest. I was a one punch palooka half way to loserville, smelling like cheap cologne and broken dreams.īut then she walked in. Not with a '57 convertible half way paid off and a tab at the banana stand on 4th that was well past its shelf life. But when you've sliced as many as i have you'd get soft too. ![]() "He's losing his touch", they'ed whisper. "Mr banana fingers", they called me behind my back. It seemed word got out that I was getting sloppy. Clients were as rare as hens teeth these days. ![]()
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