Description
Bernard Rogers was a small ceramic banana of remarkable self-importance. His glossy yellow glaze gleamed even in the faintest light, and his golden nose, eyes, and mouth shone with an expression that hovered somewhere between smugness and surprise.
He lived in a fruit bowl on the kitchen counter of Mrs. Butterworth’s Bed & Breakfast—a cheerful place where everything smelled faintly of toast and marmalade. Bernard shared the bowl with several impostors: an apple that was actually real (how vulgar), a pair of wooden pears, and a lime made of rubber. He thought of himself as the sophisticated one, the curator of calm amid chaos.
But one morning, Bernard awoke to find the fruit bowl empty. Gone. Vanished. Not even the vulgar apple remained.
“This,” he declared, his golden mouth gleaming in outrage, “is an abduction!”
Determined to get to the bottom of it, Bernard rolled himself heroically to the edge of the counter. With a small plop, he landed on a tea towel, bounced off a spoon, and spun under the dresser. There, amid the dust and crumbs, he discovered a trail—a faint streak of marmalade.
He followed it. Past the toaster. Past the biscuit tin. Right up to the open window, where the culprit was revealed: Cyril the Magpie, notorious collector of shiny things, perched proudly on the sill with Mrs. Butterworth’s fruit bowl in his beak.
“Unhand that decorative item, you feathered fiend!” cried Bernard.
Cyril blinked. Then, struck by the golden gleam of Bernard’s face, dropped the bowl in astonishment and flew off in a whirl of feathers.
When Mrs. Butterworth returned, she found the fruit bowl slightly dented—but with Bernard sitting triumphantly inside, looking more magnificent than ever.
“Well,” she said, smiling, “aren’t you the hero of the kitchen.”
Bernard Rogers said nothing, but his golden mouth curved just slightly— the modest smile of a banana who knew his worth.
