Back in Australia, which was the first place where world peace was established, a man in a banana costume was standing in the middle of a square. He stood there, and it seemed like he was waiting for something. Yet he was standing very very still. He did not move a muscle. Then suddenly he lifted his hands up and started flailing them around. The he squatted and did a back flip. And then he went all out. He busted out all of his dancing banana moves. He started break dancing, spinning all over the floor on his head and hands. He did a triple side flip and landed perfectly on his feet.

Suddenly, there were two men in banana costumes dancing. The audience hadn't seen a man in a banana costume approach from an alley way and cut through the crowd.

A man in a banana costume greeted a man in a banana costume by pausing his dance and flailing his arm. A man in a banana costume flailed back, and then they started dancing. They danced perfectly in sync. Deep in his heart, any man in a banana costume knew and understood any man in a banana costume, so harmoniously dancing was second nature to any man in a banana costume. But the audience didn't know that. They started crowding two men in banana costumes, pushing forward, trying to see. Suddenly, five men in banana costumes formed a ring around two dancing men in banana costumes and started dancing a complementary dance. The audience gasped, and moved back. More and more men in banana costumes appeared on the square. It was soon almost all yellow now. What a spectacle of human achievement that was!

Men in banana costumes danced and danced. They danced silently though. And the audience was silent too, enraptured by the magic of men dancing synchronously in banana costumes.

Suddenly, a troupe of hobos appeared in a square, creating speckles on the banana yellow of the square. They brought pots and pans and wooden boards and metal trash bins and sticks and started banging on them. Beautiful, rhythmic, enthralling music rang out in the square. The hobos danced wildly, but somehow, it worked with the elegant breakdancing and crumping of men in banana costumes. The crowd clapped and cheered, tears streaming down their eyes. It was the most epic flash mob that had ever happened.

After the epic flash mob, all men in banana costumes dispersed. As the yellow banana peel color seeped out of the city square, the people stood in standing ovation, lauding their artistic genius. Men in banana costumes walked solemnly out of the square, the hobos accompanying them out. Suddenly, the square seemed kind of empty. A lonesome feeling settled over it, that usual tint of nostalgia and sadness after an exciting night.

Soon after, the audience themselves started dispersing, quietly and excitedly relaying to each other the event that they had just witnessed, even though everyone who was there had seen it. But they still did it—it was a natural human instinct to do redundant things, and men in banana costumes understood that, so they did not judge.

In the audience there was a small child. The child clung to its mother's dress and sobbed. It had been so excited to see dancing banana people, and now that it was all over, it couldn't bear to see it all end as abruptly as it had started.

A man in a banana costume walked up to the child and patted it on its head. He remembered the time when he was a just young man in a banana costume and he had witnessed a flash mob by people in mango costumes. He had cried that time too, when it was all over, and he really felt for the child.

"One day," he said, "you will do a flash mob yourself. Stay strong, young lad." He clapped the child on the shoulder and marched off, into the world that lay ahead.

The child hiccupped. "But I'm a girl." She whined. "Girls can't do flash mobs, you know." She continued crying, her mother shushing her and patting her back, trying to comfort her.

But a man dressed in a banana costume was already on his way, and he didn't hear the plea of the crying child.