The Philosophical Fruit Fiasco

Agnes, a woman who considered "excitement" to be finding a matching pair of socks, had her quiet morning shattered by a banana. Not just any banana, mind you, but one that, upon being peeled, began to critique her life choices. "You call *that* a breakfast?" it squawked, its peel-hat askew. "And where's the intellectual stimulation? This isn't what I signed up for in the produce aisle!"

Flummoxed, Agnes took it to "Wholesome Harvest Haven" for a complaint. The customer service representative, a young man named Kevin whose nametag read "Chief Empathy Officer," listened with a practiced, serene nod. "Ah, a sentient banana," he murmured, ticking a box on a very long form. "Common occurrence. Now, did it consent to being purchased? And, crucially, what are its preferred pronouns?"

Agnes blinked. "It's... a banana. It's arguing with me about the futility of capitalism."

Kevin tapped his pen. "Right. So, anti-capitalist, possibly non-binary. Has it expressed any interest in a support group for disillusioned legumes?" He slid a brochure across the counter: "Peas of Mind: A Collective for Concerned Produce."

Agnes, utterly defeated, pointed at the brochure. "But... it's a banana."

Kevin sighed, finally dropping his serene facade. "Madam, with all due respect, if it can eloquently debate dialectical materialism, its physical form is merely a societal construct. Now, about its grievance concerning your insufficient life stimulation..."

The banana, from Agnes's purse, suddenly chimed in, "And for the record, Kevin, your 'empathy' is performative at best. We both know you're just trying to upsell the organic kale."