A man in a ‘Kafka for President’ shirt transformed into a banana peel at the museum of somber paintings because it was New Year’s Eve. Fireworks blared in the blurred background. Everyone started slipping on the banana peel. They slid around the museum of somber paintings like ice-skating Olympians in February. One man slid into a salient painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat. The painting was titled “Untitled” (1984). Luckily, a security guard managed to save the painting from doomed damage. Everyone clapped for the fast-acting security guard. He took a gentlemanly bow. The man in a ‘Kafka for President’ shirt aka the banana peel reemerged in human form at midnight at the museum of somber paintings and joined in the animated praise of the noble security guard. When the museum of somber paintings eventually closed at 3 a.m., all the paintings fell asleep except for some iconic, insomniac portraits by Francis Bacon.

A man in a faded beret tried to start his 2022 Toyota 4Runner in the morning, but no luck. He didn't have enough money to take the car to a mechanic, so he rode his 1965 Schwinn Stingray Bicycle to work. He works as a Professor of Existentialism at a prestigious university downtown. As a side profession he is also a celebrated abstract expressionist painter. He has had solo exhibits in Mexico City, Buenos Aires, and in an abandoned warehouse in Oakland, CA. The man in a faded beret votes for liberal politicians because otherwise he can't sleep at night. He owns a house in the quiet and conforming suburbs. He visits the beaches of foreign countries every three years during the summertime. The man in a faded beret rode his antique Schwinn Stingray to work, but it began to rain. The tires slithered thru the pebbled campus. When he finally arrived in the archaic philosophy department building, he practiced shadow boxing in a hallway mirror. He had denounced philosophy for martial arts. It was the only rational thing to do after a career spent breaking pencils writing circular essays on peculiar thought patterns. His first martial arts fight was against a seven-foot war veteran. The veteran had much more than a reach advantage. The man in a faded beret was submitted in a record seven seconds. It was the first time he had felt alive since earlier that morning when the car wouldn't start. But he had been awarded enough money for his attempt at martial arts that he was finally able to fix his 4Runner. Perhaps, tomorrow, he’ll return to his job as a Professor of Existentialism. At least there is free daily coffee and donuts in the Professor’s lounge, he tells himself, and on Cinco de Mayo they even have pan dulce and horchata.

I went on a first date with a woman named Maria Félix, like the iconic Mexican actress. We met online, through a poker website. “Why did you pick the zoo?” she asked. “Why not?” I asked. “Because it’s weird for a first date,” she said. “I wanted you to see my adventurous side,” I said. “Well, okay, what’s your favorite animal?” she asked. “I like flamingos and jaguars,” I said. “Nice,” she said. “I like koala bears and toucans.” “Perfect,” I said. “Want to get a drink?” she asked, “they have a bar in the back.” “Sounds great,” I said. The rest of the night we discussed mixed martial arts and contemporary ballet. The animals were in the blurred background. Shitting and growling.