I lost my banana

Something very odd has happened in our household. We have had a burglar in the house and he stole nothing else but a banana. I kid you not. Not one thing in our house was taken, not one bar of chocolates which I hide somewhere secret, not one of the many books I have authored, nothing taken except for one banana.

It was there in a bowl of fruit. The last item to be eaten before we purchase some more. One lonely banana in all its glory. Not even worth posing for a painting by Caravaggio, Picasso or Cezanne.

And now it's gone.

Everyone in our family claims that they did not take it. And I believe them.

So it leaves two options. Either the dog jumped on the table whilst we were out and ate it. Or a burglar came in and took it.

It can't be the dog, I think. Because the fruit bowl has not been disturbed and there is no sign of banana skin anywhere, unless the dog ate that too.

So it must have been a burglar. And the dog let him in no doubt. He is not much of a guard dog.

I remember we had a similar burglary some years back. It was just after we got married. A burglar entered our house and stole absolutely nothing except for my pictures. I had twenty or so pictures around the house, hanging on the wall, on the mantelpiece, side board and so on, of me in various poses, all taken by professional photographers. All these photos of me were taken and nothing else.

I wanted to call the police but my wife discouraged me. She said they'd never believe a thief would just steal only my photos; unless he was a great fan of mine that is.

So I did nothing.

Many years later I found all these photos, still in their frames, up in the loft covered in dust.

What kind of burglar is it that steals photos and then hides the loot up in the loft?

So I went up there and looked for my banana. I did not find it. But I found a number of other items I had lost over the years. Like the collection of antique door handles which I had started as a hobby before I got married. And the book about gaining friends and influencing people. A lot of good that did me in my youth; everyone avoided me as soon as they saw me. And that T shirt with the sexy slogan I used to wear. These and many other things were up in the attic. But no banana.

I think something strange is happening around here. How could the dog manage to take all these things and hide them in the loft. You'd think his instincts would be to bury them in the garden.

Maybe that's where he buried the banana!

Any ideas?