It was noon-thirty on a beautiful Tuesday. The banana-colored sunlight spilled across the peaceful cul-de-sac of Via Del Campo Ct. Without warning, a determined fist belonging to none other than Joyce "Mother Effin'" Kuo arced down toward James Whiteside's flash frozen snack cake.
"Wait!" shouted James, with unbridled fear and emotion. He snatched the vacuum packed morsel from the table and clutched it to his heart. "I want to eat this," he said.
With a sigh, Joyce checked her swing at the last second. "What would happen," she pondered, "if two people were to smash each end of a snack cake at the same time?"
Tim Sun (no relation to the star Earth orbits) gave one last look of loathing at his yogurt/vegetable Jacuzzi and offered his banana as a sacrifice. He handed it to Canadian mystic Victor Pak, who enchanted the doomed fruit:
"By the power vested in me by the Royal Canadian Mounties, the great moose spirit, and those mean-ass Canada geese, I hereby pronounce this fruit 'wish banana'."
All was silent, save for the echoes of Victor's rumbling voice off the cafeteria tables. Joyce, who was clearly feeling aggressive, sat on one side of the very nervous fruit. Donna Lou, data rights champion, sat on the other. By this time, a sizable crowd had gathered.
"ONE!" they shouted.
"TWO!" Donna and Joyce swung their fists into the air.
"THREE!" cried the masses. The brave women smashed their balled hands into the fruit.
I wish I could tell you everyone survived. I wish I could tell you the peaceful cul-de-sac of Via del Campo Ct wasn't a vast crater. So I will.
After everyone nursed their banana-related injuries, Jon Anderson decided to make a game based on their experience that day. This is that game. Please play with reckless abandon, in honor of those six brave souls who got super sticky on that fateful day.