The Fruit Club

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

The Fruit Club

By Plot Roach

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir.” said the man wearing the banana costume.

“I’m not a ’sir.”” said Carole. “And why would I have to leave?”

“You are not dressed as a fruit, mister.”

“I’m not dressed as a fruit, and I’m not a ‘mister’, either.”

“Then you really can’t stay.”

“But why?” Carole asked, looking at the members of the club walk in past her. This man was the only one dressed as a fruit. Everyone else seemed to be dressed in their usual casual clothing. What was the big fuss about? “Why must I be dressed as a fruit?”

“You have to be a fruit and you have to be male.” the bouncer corrected her. “sorry,” he said. “The haircut threw me at first.”

Carole touched the ends of her short hair, wishing this was the first time she had been confused for a male. “But why? You seem to be the only one here dressed as a fruit. What about everyone else?” she asked.

“It’s the Founder’s Day Fruit Parade here at the club. All new members must be dressed as fruit, all older members may come dressed however they may wish.”

“Well, what if I’m already a member here?” Carole asked.

“Then you would have already known about the parade, and you would be MALE.”

“There’s that penis thing again.” Carole sighed. She looked around the room, there was a group of men next to the bar, she called out “Hey James, I’m here!” hoping that she could catch someone off guard and bluff her way in.

“Nice try.” the banana said when no one responded. “but ‘lady friends’ aren’t allowed in there either.”

“Isn’t that against the law, or something? I thought ‘cigar clubs’ went out of style anyway.”

“Not if you have the cigar.” he said, leering at her. “You don’t do you?” he asked.

Carole blushed a moment at the sexual remark and then pulled herself together. This was her chance! “Well, I have been through some ‘changes’ lately. Which is the reason why my friends didn’t recognize me at the bar. I used to be a she, really I was.”

“Prove it.”

“Well I don’t have my ‘thing’ anymore.”

“What did you name it?”

“What?”

“Your thing.” he said. “Every guy names his thing.”

Carole blushed again. Was it really worth getting into the club for an interview this badly? “Twinkie.” she said proudly.

“No dice.” the man said. “First, you paused, which gave it away. You had to think about it. Second, no man names it something cutesy unless it’s also manly. I would have taken something like the Spaghetti Monster, the Happy Tickler or Dong Johnson for example.”

“God, this is hard.”

“That’s what she said.” the banana man said.

“Oh shut up and let me think!” Carole yelled.

“Why do you want to get into this joint anyway?”

“I’m writing an article for the local paper on the owner and he said to meet him inside. Which I thought was great, because the man never gives interviews. But-”

“You can’t get the interview because you can’t get in.” the banana man finished. “I understand.”

“So you’ll let me in?” she asked.

“Oh hell no, that would cost me my new membership.” he said. “Now move aside. We have a new member coming through.”

Carole stepped aside and watched a large red orb weave past her and into the entrance of the club. She squinted, recognizing another reporter from the newspaper where she worked. “Holland? Is that you?”

“Yep.” he smiled, his face painted red to go with his outfit. “The boss says that I’ll get a raise if I can get the interview that you couldn’t.”

Carole watched him coast into the room. A bell rang and the other new members, all dressed as fruit, came waddling from the back to face their audience. Carole tried one last shot at gaining entry into the club.
“Hey, that guy is dressed as a tomato, and you let him in!” Carole yelled, pointing to the man who just shoved his way past her.

“A tomato is technically a fruit.” the banana man said before closing the door on her.