perfect day for bananabread

two unusual looking girls could be spotted walking down shattuck toward the berkeley bowl on the evening of july 2nd.  one is on the phone with her mom, talking about food.  the other, after a sad collection of events, is mourning the loss of the strap of her beloved shoe.  two days prior, both had sat on a street corner nearby, attempting to earn enough loose change to see moonrise kingdom for the 3rd and 2nd time, respectively.  they ended up collecting a grand total of: $0.00.  but.... company was earned.  one man drifted off the map after 35 years, and is back 4 years later with surreal tales of passing through jail.  the other is a tool fan, who goes by the name of origami tony.  the two fit together better than you'd think.
now one ponders the face of her crush.  her crush whom she has not yet spoken to.  she shall never speak to him, despite the fact that she will probably see him four to six times before the summer is through.  alas, it is entirely understandable that she cannot picture his face, for he covers it with an incredibly childish looking animal mask.
but we digress.  this story is supposed to be about bananabread.  not a bananafish.  not a bananacrush.  not even bananafriends.  BREAD goddammit BREAD.
so we've got eight rotting bananas in our freezer.  oh man are they frozen.  the solution is to put them in the toaster oven, and three minutes later to remove them with their leaking banana juice and licking it off her hands.  frida, that is. that's who her is.
though the toaster oven was of much assistance, it was undeniable that the bananas were still quite frozen. laura tried to mash, frida to smash.  and eventually the bananas joined the mix of other ingredients that had, VERY carelessly, been measured out.  wheat flour could be spotted on the floor, the counter, the stovetop, and in the sink.  banana peels formed a miniature mountain from the depths of the sink ocean.  frida observed the dough as it reached a state of completion.
"it looks like chicken salad" she declared with habitual serenity.
we put the chicken salad in the oven and thought about all we'd accomplished.  laura, the eager apprentice and frida, the kitchen master, would find out in only 60 minutes time what the fruits of their labor would yield....
Then he went over and sat down on the unoccupied twin bead, looked at the girl, aimed the pistol, and fired a bullet thru his right temple.