Friends: we have another ghost situation. I believe it to be friendly from what I can tell, but it still means business.
My good friend, Dana, was over at my house the other day when something a little odd happened. She asked me for a glass of water and when I reached up to the glass cabinet in my kitchen, I opened the doors and said to her, “Whoa. That’s weird.”
My little bunch of bananas had somehow traveled from the wire fruit rack on my counter up to the cabinet directly above it, and was sitting coyly on the edge of the shelf. I had not put the bananas there, and I live alone. I’m pretty sure Mona didn’t do it, since she lacks opposable thumbs and all, and I am certain that no one else was in my house during the time in which the bananas made their way into the cabinet. I don’t sleep walk, do not drink to the point of blacking out while I’m home alone, and therefore came up with only one logical explanation for this strange occurrence: I have a poltergeist in house—a poltergeist who has a thing for produce.
Of course I was terrified to touch the bananas or move them, for fear of angering my neighborhood poltergeist. However, after a few days I was worried about the possibility of fruit flies, the consequences of which seemed much worse than dealing with the wrath of an unhappy, and apparently physically fit, house ghost. I finally threw the bananas in the garbage, not wanting to eat them or even use them for banana bread because I figured that they could very well be tainted with some kind of ghostly voodoo.
This poltergeist theory would explain several other oddities in my new and much beloved home. Such oddities include Mona’s infrequent growling fits at the northwest corner of my bedroom in the middle of the night, the feelings of dread and ice-cold drafts coming from the crack beneath the door to what I like to refer to as the “scary closet,” and the recent late-night flickering of the overhead light in the hallway.
I’ve got a new bunch of bananas today, and am planning a little experiment. I’m going to leave them nice and accessible on the counter, not even in the wire rack, and will see if my friendly bananageist wishes to repeat his/her trickery. I’ve got a long and interesting history with the spirit world, and this is certainly not the first house ghost to make its presence known to me. But if the moving of produce around the house is any representation of how my new ghost feels about me, then I am pretty sure that we’ll be able to chabitate this space fairly well. Either way, I may still never eat bananas again. Careful everyone, they could be tainted.