Bananapants

by Penny Reid

Beautiful and still cute. A lethal combination.

“I understand that you little guys start out with your woobies, and you think they’re great . . . and they are, they are terrific. But, pretty

soon, a woobie isn’t enough. You’re out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, or maybe a quilt. And the next thing you know, you’re strung out on bedspreads, Ken. That’s serious.”

Being angry by oneself is irritating. Anger shared is comforting.

“I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not.”

Kurt Cobain,

“Where’s that apron of apathy I bought you for Christmas? How about the insoles of indifference for your birthday, huh? What’s with this cardigan of curiosity? Take it off, it’s not your color.”

calling me Raz—short for my call sign, Raziel—and

Haewthorn

She had no sense of decorum, one of the reasons we got along so well. She also lacked sentimentality, which was usually an asset.

olanzapine

if I had a panic attack, especially this late in the day, it might lead to a psychotic episode.

weld and woodwork and take care of a car and garden and other tasks he referred to as “necessary skills in the coming zombie apocalypse.”

Greg Archer had been a stay-at-home dad

grab my face, as was his habit. “Fuck you, kid. You look great.”

The 3-3-3 rule is a mindfulness technique to help cope with anxiety,

identified three colors, three sounds, three smells.

Give them structure, don’t let them turn into mindless consumers, but let them do what brings them joy. As long as they’re learning and creating, they’re good. You know?”

“Thinks he knows better ’cause he’s been through some hard shit. I’ll tell you a secret: everybody goes through hard shit, Sherlock. Everyone on this planet stinks with it. But should the human race cease to exist? Should we give up on making babies because of something that might happen,

being responsible and being a whiny little bitch who’s afraid of making a single fucking mistake and therefore walks around feeling all superior because they never did anything to hurt nobody. Guess what, they probably never did anything to help nobody either.

Praise Jesus and all his angels in heaven for second-generation atypical antipsychotics.

This is some fucking cutie-pie shit.” He was right, I did sometimes have a goofy-looking smile.

“She sees red flags as red carpets. Until some morally gray man in a three-piece suit finds her in the rain and gives her an umbrella, she’ll never be satisfied. We’re counting on you.”

make no mistake, Desmond Sullivan was now off-the-charts, woo-woo handsome. Offensively handsome.

his discombobulating physical prettiness,

he focuses on the only person who might’ve been a victim. He’d always been this way,

concentrating on whose feelings might be hurt or neglected.

pumpernickel. I knew my preference for pumpernickel got me in trouble sometimes, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted what I wanted

I’m having fun. This moment felt like a gift.

What kind of loser carries around unrequited and undefined feelings for ten years?

my stupid mouth asked before vetting the questions with my brain.

speaking around his infectious laughter, “‘You're losing your eye. You used to be able to pitch better than that.’” I hated that his Cary Grant impression was so good.

my first instinct was to respond with, “Walter, you're wonderful, in a loathsome sort of way.’”

I felt more attacked by his personality. Violently attacked. He had no business being so cute. And then so stern. And then so cute again. No. Business.

Ranting about how his attractiveness should be against the law.

it didn’t seem appropriate to ask, Hey, so, how’s that mental illness going? Is it getting any better, or what’s happening with that? Would chicken soup help?

container of Garrett Popcorn, I sifted through it until I found the perfect caramel-covered puff. Plucking it from the tin along with a well-seasoned cheesy popcorn,

“Yes! You do! You’re not a crocodile, stop floating down de-Nile.

Why does our society insist on pushing children away from their families? Why must we all become islands of independence at eighteen? Rude!

Des isn’t—he wasn’t—a burden. I didn’t care if he were a robot or an alien or had bipolar or whatever. He was my favorite. Period.”

Incompetence was everywhere. EVERYWHERE! It was one of the constants in life: death, taxes, change, cockroaches, and incompetence.

Nothing disorients men more than a woman who is taller than them, and witnessing their disgruntled, bemused faces when I shook their hands never failed to amuse me.

to investigate the phenomena of women’s superior situational awareness (i.e., their sixth sense of being watched or predicting danger). Apparently, a woman will sense and notice being watched anywhere from ten to one hundred times faster than a man,

“Studies show that keeping a ladder inside the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun. That’s why I own ten

guns. In case some maniac tries to sneak in a ladder.”

“Funyuns. I’ve never tried them, but I feel like it’s terribly presumptuous to name your product fun-yun. That’s a big job, making an onion fun when onion rings already exist. And what if you fail? What then?”

My mother, ever the pragmatist, had made all of us take at least one martial art growing up until we made it to black belt

my underwear has a pocket in the front, about four inches beneath my belly button. The pocket even has a soft plastic zipper.

She insisted we carry a credit card, a key to our house, and an

ID on us at all times inside the secret pocket.