This is the 87th installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
He loved eating his bananas in hot dog buns. He claimed he did it because it was just so good—try it, won’t you?—but I stopped believing that by middle school.
The first clue was his timing. He never ate the monstrosity when he was alone. How do I know that? Simple math. There’d be four bananas when I went to school, and there’d be four bananas when I got home. He only ever reached for them when one of us was around.
The second clue was the chasm between impulse and afterthought. Sometimes, on a Saturday morning, I’d see him reach for a banana and bite into it before realization dawned on him: He’d forgotten the hot dog bun. He’d smirk as he corrected that.
The obvious conclusion? My dad only ever ate bananas on hot dog buns to gross us out.
And you know what? It worked.
Miles Away 