Try to restore her.

As the exhilaration of eating your mother fades, you look down at the flaccid, torn banana peel in your hand with a more rational mind and realize, with horror, that you've just eaten your mother.

With a start, you try to press the torn edges of you mother's peel back together, but there's nothing to hold them together and nothing to fill the peel. You've eaten her out.

This thought makes you giggle. You ask, slightly hysterical, "was it good for you?"

"Oh yes," you respond in a weak falsetto, moving her tiny, limp arms with your fingers as you do. "Best I eeeeever had."

You are so fucked.

You sigh and let her arms drop back into your palm.

Then you remember the calculator.

Oh yeah.

You stifle the urge to face palm. Probably wise under the circumstances.