It was 3:47 AM.
I found two dying bananas on the kitchen counter. One was already splitting open, the other still pretending it had dignity. I taped them together with duct tape so they wouldn’t fall apart on stage, stuck a cigarette in the mouth of the one that still looked like it wanted to tell jokes… and let them perform their final set.
The left one smokes and delivers bad punchlines.
The right one just stares into the void, like every comedian after a rough open mic.
This is not AI.
This is 100% organic.
Potassium, nicotine, and duct tape.
A fragile metaphor about real comedy: messy, ripening, addicted, and barely held together by whatever’s available at 4 in the morning.