The Banana Monster

Our house on 59th Place had an old, scary, stinky basement. We never played there  or used the space for much of anything, although it would have been a good place to play medieval prison.  When Grandpa and Grandma decided to remodel the basement, they had to have the floor broken and the stairs taken out in order to pour a new concrete floor. Now the basement really looked scary, with a dirt floor, a bare lightbulb for light and a ladder leading up to the kitchen.  This is where the Banana monster lived. And of course, Uncle John was involved. Shortly after the basement was torn up, Uncle John started telling the story of the Banana monster. It seems that the monster lived in the basement and waited for children who went downstairs to get the laundry. We were terrorized for weeks, because it was some time before all of Grandpa's police friends could get the day off to help pour the new floor. We shuddered every time Grandma asked someone to help get the laundry, because it was so dark down there and Uncle John had told us such horrible things about the Banana monster. But one day we decided that we had had enough of the Banana monster. We worked it out so that Grandma insisted Uncle John go in the basement. I was already down there, wearing a yellow blanket and waiting. I think that Uncle John must have believed his own stories because when he saw me coming towards him and looking like a big yellow banana ghost, his eyes got really big and he let out a big scream. And that was the end of the Banana monster. Uncle John never talked about it again.