Mr. Banana Hammock is displeased with his reverse commute

I really am becoming disgruntled about my very long reverse commute to and from work. Maybe finding a girlfriend closer to work might help?? Character inspired by the writings of Mark Leyner.

Waking up around six AM this morning in my Adams Morgan compound, I glance up to the mirrors over my bed and take it all in -- muscle mass, density, ripped definition, intensity, stamina, endurance, mental focus, dignity, flair, and humility. I shower. While I am air drying I read the Washington Post and treat myself to a breakfast of Northern Spotted Owl Eggs Benedict with marmoset bacon. I was it down with a glass of breakfast wine.

Dry, I contemplate my morning commute. It has become a lot more complicated since my multinational corporation has moved its base from downtown to Falls Church. I have to get up earlier. I leave the compound earlier. I commute earlier. Once there were tons of lovelies on the Red Line to impress with ripped physique and my finely honed posing: Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. Now there are the half-asleep, the married, the elderly. All of the lovelies are on the opposite platform, waiting for Orange Line trains to take them into DC.

I throw on my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. I grab my New Yorker and I head for the Orange Line, Farragut West to West Falls Church. No lovelies. Just the half-asleep. The married. The elderly. I settle silently into my seat and crack my New Yorker. I begin to think to myself, “Maybe I’m not too much to handle for just one woman. Maybe I could solve all my problems if I could just find one special woman for whom I could pose. Maybe she would live in Falls Church so my morning commute would be shorter. Maybe I should have a Reuben for lunch. The corned beef is made from the finest cuts of baby panda I am told. I sure am hungry. Hmmm.”

Me you ask? Air drying. Eating exotic and endangered animals. Public transportation. Keeping informed. That is what I am about. And if you want to host Mr. Banana Hammock in your Falls Church bungalow Monday-Thursday, you know where to write.

He gets letters:

"Are you a fiction writer wannabe? Your ad must fictional, no one could be that much of a self absorbed asshole as MR. Banana!!!. It made me laugh. If it is true and it's about you, please don't tell me. I live in Falls Church and it would worry me that I might cross paths with you."