The Monkey Monster

*This is one of the silliest things I’ve ever written and I make no apology for it*


I doubt you’ll believe this, but it’s absolutely true. Seriously. There’s an invisible monster thing that follows some people. Even though no one’s ever seen it, some say it’s a kind of monkey that never stops laughing and only dogs and babies and old Japanese men can hear it.

The monkey monster rolls around the floors and ceilings of our homes and we can’t even hear the bumps and thumps it makes. It slings its invisible monkey monster shit everywhere and laughs like hell when the shit lands right into people’s yawning mouths. They swallow its shit down into their bellies and part of the monkey monster’s trickster spirit is in their system for a day or two. If you accidently swallow some, you’ll find yourself dancing on the train platform or slamming out some absolutely stinking ghost drum solos whilst you’re sitting on the bus with your headphones on. If there’s enough monkey shit still in there you won’t even care when a few of those stuck-up bus bastards laugh at you.

But the monkey monster can disrupt your quiet little life in other ways – in ways that don’t involve force feeding you his crap. If he takes a real shine to you he’ll haunt you for weeks and even months. Sometimes he whispers jokes into your ears and part of you hears these jokes – it’s that part only kids know about – the part that used to be a fancy monkey, before the homos met the sapiens. You almost hear his jokes and you don’t smile at first, ‘cause you wouldn’t even really know what you’re laughing at and you’re still thinking about all the worries and resentments that have grown like weeds in your mind. But one day, after the monkey has been telling you jokes for weeks, you smile for no damn reason. And it’s easier to smile after that.

The monkey also loves to point out the good stuff you don’t always see. He points out little dogs with smiling faces. He points out cats that try to fit their whole bodies into cereal boxes. He points out when the ad hoc curry you make out of whatever crap you have lying around your home is easily the best goddamn curry you’ve ever had and you think you could eat it until you die and that it would be a sweet way to go.

Despite all his rolling around, the monkey monster can be a lazy little scamp, and he loves nothing more than making his new favourite person stop what they’re doing and relax with him. There’s probably no way you’ll believe this part, but he’s like a full-on ghost masseuse and he rubs your shoulders and whispers little soothing messages into your ears so that you chill the fuck out every now and then. He helps you feel like you’re taking time for yourself, which is nice, but you’re actually with him and he’s probably snoozing beside you. Sometimes there’s a whole bunch of shit you have to do and it’s stressing you out so much you could die, and the monkey just makes you forget about it and sit in the grass outside and make daisy chains or draw made-up dinosaurs with too many horns and legs that are too small to support their weight. And then, when you finally get back to all the things you had to do before the monkey grabbed your attention, you realise that most of that stuff isn’t worth doing – which is pretty sweet.

And sometimes the monkey does something totally sick when you’re at your most alone and despair has settled into your heart so bad you can’t move and you’ve forgotten how fun it can be to be a fancy monkey and how amazing it is that we’re even alive at all. The monkey – who is a complete sicko, btw – just leaves you alone with your troubles, ‘cause sometimes life is so tough and you’ve gotta feel all of it before you can be a crazy monkey again. There’s no rush. The monkey is easily in the top five most patient monsters in the world.

It totally depends how long the monkey monster wants to spend with you – ‘cause it takes longer to disrupt different people. But it’s a day-by-day sort of thing, and the disruption is so subtle almost no one notices the little changes – the layers of tiny moments stacked on top of one another. But suddenly it just hits you ‘cause you’re smiling for no damn reason and you realise you’ve been happy for days now and it’s such a relief you start crying. But it’s okay; it’s the good kind of crying. Then the monkey decides to leave you. He’s in the disruption business, and there’s not much left for him to disrupt. So he’s off to fuck shit up in someone else’s life. And he says goodbye before he goes, even though you never really knew he was there.



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