Banana Floor.

Unfortunately, the shop floor is a thick carpet of mashed bananas floated atop a semisolid foundation of chewy nougat. I try to ask the shop owner why she decided to build the shop like this, but she is too busy screaming. Apparently she stood on a stepladder to retrieve a box of flanged screws from the top shelf, but the stepladder's thin legs have sunk through the mashed banana and pierced the nougat, and is rapidly sinking. She is crouched on the top step of the stepladder like it is a very small liferaft, and she holds out her hand to me, but I have a thing about germs. Soon she is gone, all is quiet and peaceful once again. I collect two armfuls of the most expensive power tools I can carry, and trudge my way out, leaving a trail of wet banana down the sidewalk.