serious fruit in the banana hammock

**Rated N for No One Should Have to See This**

There are traumas in the park aside from scary, agressive pigeons. Take, for example, the very skinny man who just removed his pants to reveal a very tiny, tropical blue-colored banana hammock. (Translation: a revolting, far-too-revealing speedo usually worn only by uninhibited Europeans in South Beach.) But is that enough? Does it stop there? No.

Not only is he a very skinny man wearing nothing but a banana hammock, but the bulge is HUGE. Women and men all over the park are unable to keep their eyes from it. Small children are running from it. When he stands up, it hangs. When he lies on his back, it, well, doesn't. It's a nasty, scary lump right in the middle of the park--a mere 10 feet from me--and I can't stop staring. It's like driving by a car wreck. I know it's wrong to look but it's just there, demanding attention. But is that enough? Does it stop there?

When a break in the clouds finally offered some sunlight, Banana Hammock Man sat up, spread his legs wide, and began rubbing sun tan oil all over his body. Some poor woman, not three feet away, had a view centered perfectly between the man's legs, and no doubt got a truly disgusting view of the lubrication. I say "no doubt" because she, much like myself, could not conceal her fascination with said act, and stared blatently at the man--or his banana--the entire time.

Now she's gone, due entirely to her repulsion, and he lies there, legs still spread and glistening in the sun, as people walk by pointing and snickering, saying "that's just wrong." But me? I just sit nearby and write it all down.