Banana Suit Monkeys [Scene 3]

From what I've heard, most people didn't go from being a couple to living together in a matter of a single day. You could imagine my frustration to having a robot girlfriend who now occupied my guest room. Last night was even more hectic than my days working as a director.

First, because she wouldn't stop talking about being hungry, we stopped at a gas station. The attendant looked at me rather odd when I went to purchase a gas container and disposable cups. Or maybe it was because I was still incognito in my mustache and cowboy hat. Anyways, I pumped the gas into the bottle and poured it in a cup to give to Yunaria. For a split second through the window, the cashier and I locked eyes when I gave her gasoline in a Willy W's Styrofoam cup. There was no true way to explain that. It was better I left and never returned. 

She was happy and drank it as if were a cafe expresso. It was disgusting, but that was one less worry. There was another problem we had to address: her smell. Car rides are far less enjoyable when your girlfriend rotted the insides. Spilled gasoline on your tan seat cushions. Claimed that the car was 'speaking to her' and it had 'thoughts'. Wondering why we used cars if we could just fly. It was quite the shock for her to find out humans couldn't so such a thing. My grip on the steering wheel was so tight the seams started to peel the leather. I gave up on watching my beloved Turtle Ballroom Dancers.

I hardly knew what women liked to wear, even less so for a woman who was also from outer space and a robot. A department store was open late night and had to shop by myself in the women's section. Who knows what people would think if they saw Yunaria flying all around the store? I couldn't take her in the store with me. She didn't even know what money or buying items meant, and the more I tried to explain it to her, the more ridiculous it became.

"Why do you have to buy things with this form of paper in order to obtain what you want? Couldn't you make it or find a more efficient way? And how do you get this so called 'money'?" 

"You have to get a job to earn money."

"So how does one find a job? You don't already have a job, and have to find one? What does it require to get one?"

"Skills. Time. Nepotism. Luck in some cases."

"Nepotism...? So, if you don't have the right skills and can't find a job, basically you can't buy items of want? Even if luck is a factor."

"Basically."

 "That's not very logical."

You know, stuff like that. I had no reasonable response to her questions because I had to admit it was a silly rule of Earth. It didn't make sense. It was too much thinking. So, I trekked the women's department a lone soldier. Her size wasn't apparent to me but seeing as her current clothes were a tad snug, I took my best guesses. T-shirts, dress clothes, pants, a couple of pairs of shoes, nightwear. No problem. Now, underwear and bras...I definitely had to ask the young woman on duty for help and I think once again, I will never return there. It was in everyone's interest.

When we got home, I basically shoved her in the shower. Conditioner, shampoo, soap, face wash, any cleaning product you could think of, I told her to use it. Thank God she was smart. Some things she picked up on intuitively and it was exactly as she said, she was adaptable. It made things easier in some respect. 

After a long shower, she finally came out in her nightwear and instinctively, I turned away. I don't know why my face got so red and felt...weird. Luckily, the guest room was already prepared as a part of the rental home. I showed her there and went to bed early. I had more idiocy to deal with in the morning.

Strangely enough, I couldn't sleep last night. I had a dream of Yunaria laying in the ground on a dark planet with a dim glow of a red moon in the atmosphere. Where did she come from and how did she get here? Better yet why was she in my house!

The curiosity of her got the better of me.

***

If she was the only thing I had to worry about, I would be stressed, but I could manage. Gasoline and a trip around the block every so often didn't strike me as too bad. She was basically like a car that asked questions. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. 

Unfortunately, there were bigger idiots to fry.

West Hollywood is where Skyline Studios was located. The infamous Hollywood sign glistened through the windowpane. Large skyscrapers coupled with the rustic old Spanish buildings made this part of the city feel old, yet modern about Los Angeles. Only time will tell if my dreams live up to reality. Today was the production meeting and I must've missed the memo on the dress code. 

How was anything supposed to get done when no one took anything serious?

Ben, the main producer, executive producer, some of the heads of the departments of Set Design, Costume, Lighting, a few other people all were in attendance. They all sat along the mahogany, oval table.

"First off, I want to thank everyone for being on time. It's important in our industry," Ben spoke, shooting me a look. "We're going to discuss scheduling and timelines, updates on costumes, set design and make up. To start off, Carla."

A middle-aged woman stood up. What's odd is no one said anything. They all just, went along with this madness. All of them looked like buffoons.

"So, as some of you may know, we were allotted 75 million dollars for the production of Space Cowboy Robot Love 8. We're right at the halfway point having spent north of 35 million dollars on casting payment, set design, city permits and other expenses. Three-"

"Carla, right?" I asked. Enough of this. 

"Yes, Mr. Haruka?"

"Please, Mr. Haruka, let Carla finish. This is important. Carla." Ben added.

"Right, so our budget is approaching really fast. Deadlines and expected finish time for filming is in three months and it has already been one month in-"

"Just one question, a teeny tiny question, then I promise...we can continue, the meeting." I chuckled and lowered my tone. I'm going mad, and no one notices.

"Okay, Mr. Haruka," Ben folded his hands neatly on his lap, "The floor is all yours, Director."

I began slowly, but steadily. I wanted to make my point clear. "This is a professional meeting, no? Industry standard, yes?" I paused briefly and leaned in closer to Ben.

"Of course," Ben chimed in.

"So, why are all of you wearing banana suits?"

Every single one of them, I mean every single person was wearing a bright yellow, inflatable banana suit with small holes cut out for the eyes, mouth and nose. I was surrounded by banana suit monkeys. 

"Actually, it was on the costume itinerary. Well, we can just skip to it now and come back to the budget, but what do you think? So, I had this idea. Costume brought it to me. You know the scene where Jedd finally goes on the date with Yunari, right?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Well, what if on the date he shows up in the Mexican Poncho and Yunari notices something yellow in his pocket. She asks him what it is, and he tells her it's nothing, a relic from his past. And then," he waddled towards me and put his arm around my shoulder for emphasis, "...she tells him that she wants to know everything about him, that he should hide nothing and be himself. So, he pulls the banana suit out, steps in the costume. He says I finally feel free."

I blinked a couple of times to make sure I wasn't dreaming. When I opened my eyes again, all I saw were bananas staring at me with blank expressions. 

"You're serious? What happened to the vision of romance or, I don't know a compelling twist on a parody. You're serious?"

The bananas kept silent and continued to glare at me as if I said something ridiculous. 

"It was in the email," the costume designer spoke up, "If you're upset about the memo, the banana suits to the meeting were... in the email, Mr. Haruka, sir."

At that moment, I picked up the itinerary, shuffled the papers together and left.

I had to go home and think about how to direct the movie with a group of bananas and on my way out the door, it was faint, but I swear I heard a mariachi band. 

I really should've read my contract.

***