To see why I wrote this, look at:

“I truly would sell my soul for a banana right now.” He whined to his wife.

She looked over at him, trying to mask her annoyance but the grimace on her face was a dead give-away.  “Would you stop? You’re almost done with Phase 1 of this diet!”

He knew he was being a pain, but it seemed impossible to stop.  He’d been on this diet for several weeks and it had proven to be very successful.  He’d dropped over 80 pounds – the equivalent of a young kid – and he felt really good.  That is, with one exception.  He couldn’t get his mind off food! 

Hamburgers, pizza, chocolate chip cookies, you name it, if it was bad for you, he was thinking about it.  Food even invaded his dreams! He’d dream about falling off of his diet by sneaking some of his daughter’s birthday cake or eating a bag of Twizzlers in the car on the way home from work.

And the oddest thing of all is he thought about eating fruit all the time.  The diet prevented any sugar from being eaten and that included fruit.  He desperately wanted an apple, or some pineapple or a banana.  He was sure that when he was off this diet he was going to hit the local grocery store and just eat his weight in bananas until the cops took him away for disturbing the other customers.

“I really would hon.  I’d sell my soul for a banana.  Really.”  He said again to his better half.

She looked at him once more, her annoyance at him seeming to permeate from every pore in his body.  “Oh really?  Would you really sell your soul? Hmm?”  And with that last question, her face seemed to contort and … change.

Suddenly, his wife was no longer there and in her place stood one of the most demonic, hideous creatures he’d ever seen.  He gasped in horror as one moldy, bug infested hand of this thing that replaced his wife grabbed his shoulder and another slid a piece of paper over to him.  “If that’s the case, just sign here…”

He tried to let out a scream but there was nothing coming out of his mouth. He bolted from the chair he was in and began to move away from this monster.  But it kept moving towards him, paper in one hand and what looked like a banana in another. 

Finally he got the strength to turn and run, only to stumble over one of the dog’s toys on the floor.  As he fell, he hit his head on the side of the stove and was unconscious.

“Daddy get up!  Daddy?  Are you ok?”

“Huh?  Whazit?” He opened his eyes to see his wife and one of his daughters standing over him.  Slowly he sat up, rubbing his head as he did so.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know, Daddy.  It looks like you fell and hit your head?  Are you ok?”

“I think so, hon.” He stood up and tried to get his bearings.  Was any of that real?  Surely it was all a dream?

About that time, his wife came over and handed him some…bananas.  “Here you go, sweetheart.  I know you’ve been looking forward to having one.”

His face contorted in shock as she continued, “And when you’re done, I’ve got something for you to sign…”

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