“You know I don’t even eat these! They just get thrown away. So wasteful,” Mr. Bananas said with a look of disgust. “And would you mind closing my door? You just left it hanging wide open like a bunch of animals.” He showed his fangs in agitation.
Mr. Bananas tossed all of the bananas on the cartoon kitchen table then grabbed a fresh beer from the refrigerator. In one swift motion he twists the cap off the beer, chucks it in a comically over-sized metal trash can, and take a big gulp of beer. Steve noticed the beer was the only other real thing in the apartment besides him and Mr. Jones. Why would a cartoon monkey drink real beer? Steve thought.
“Since it looks like you’re pretty occupied here, we should be on our way.” Mr. Jones tapped Steve’s arm to signal it was time to go. “We still have a couple more rooms to hit before we’re done for the day.”
As both men began to leave the apartment, Steve looked over his shoulder and saw Mr. Bananas had resumed his beer drinking on the couch in front of the TV. The cartoon monkey wasn’t really watching the TV, though. And for some reason this made Steve sad and grateful that they were leaving. A cartoon room should’ve been really fun, but for some reason there was an air of melancholy throughout.
Back in the hallway, neither man spoke for a moment. But once they were far enough away from Mr. Bananas’ apartment, Steve broke the silence by asking Mr. Jones numerous questions about the physics of how a cartoon room works. But Mr. Jones only replied with a stern glare. He was clearly not in the mood for any questions.
It seemed to Steve that Mr. Jones’ mood would change from room to room. As if each room had its own unique effect on the man. This also made Steve wonder, if he spent enough time in this bizarre place, would it eventually have the same effect on him?
Why would a cartoon monkey drink real beer?
The two men walked in silence until they reached the fifth room of the day. Steve finally broke the silence again by asking if they needed anything from the supply closet for this room. But Mr. Jones simply shook his head side-to-side. He seemed unusually bummed out by something.
Mr. Jones pulled out his ring of keys and shuffled through them before landing on the right one. He hovered over the keyhole for a moment then looked at Steve. “Do you ever get motion sickness at all?”
Steve was taken back by the odd question but answered truthfully. “Not that I can recall.” What crazy thing is behind this door? Steve asked himself.
“That’s a good thing. I would hate to see you get sick in here.” Mr. Jones glared with furrow brows. “Trust me, it would be a hell of a mess to clean up.” The slightest smirk came across his face, filling Steve with a sense of relief.