The thing about the ocean is that, unless you’re under it, it can make you extremely seasick, and worried about what’s under it. I recall dreams, nay, nightmares of inundation not long before I rocketed off to Mars. My darling mother, Mrs On Mars, reassured me that it was simply the terror of space travel and my fear of being torn apart by G-forces when I clearly prefer C-forces (c for cat, obviously). Anyway, made it to Mars, found the ice, chipped some off and settled down with a Tuna Daquiri and some smoked eel pie (mmm, smoked eeellllllll). Chin, chin, or is it chihuahua, chihuahua? Whatever.
The thing about the banana is that it’s the perfect fruit. It can go anywhere at a second’s notice. It’s a lovely colour whether ripe or unripe. It can be ready for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, or any snack in between. While felines may not be totally enamoured of the curvy yellow handful of peelworthy goodness (though many are), they appreciate nature’s creativity, and understand that literary types, both humanoid and monkeyoid, are constantly inspired by its presence. Especially with oats and honey, and whipped cream and jelly, and oh, rice cakes, toast, vegemite, jam, curd, Mrs On Mars undoubtedly delicious banana cream pie, etcetera. And the odd tuna bake. Very odd.
Enjoy a banana today, and write your master work.
Remember when your mother made boiled fruit cake for Christmas? Perhaps she still does. And my lovely mother, Mrs On Mars, was, and is, a dab paw at producing the most delicious of boiled tuna fruit cakes for all of the wee Martians in the neighbourhood. A little red-dusty, but delicious, and Mars-ish if not more-ish.
As for St. Olaf and Meerecatt Meallworme, they’ve come to an arrangement: a block-buster straight-to-video mega-classic misinterpreted epic fail called Jaws, Paws, Claws, Bores, and Laws, and Another Bloody War: The Umpire Strikes Back. Look for it at your local streaming-eyes online time-waster, or not.