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The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Richard Davidson on 9/18/2002; 11:29 PM "Give me back my monkey." The voice came floating through the vent near Pedro's ear, stirring up just enough dust to fill a thimble. Pedro had never heard such desperation before, or had he? The apartment was gray and delinquent, sending shards of broken dreams spiraling sunward into the afternoon sky, as viewed from a single window facing East, obscured by a grimy film of wasted time. "Give me back my monkey," the voice came again, and Pedro was disturbed by the absolutely ludicrous phrase, uttered by a person in so much pain. He was hungry, and had been planning to get off the couch and make an omellette, but this bizarre phrase had really thrown him, and he didn't dare move, or even breathe. It would have been a good omellette too, because Pedro still had some of that excellent Colby cheese, and some mushrooms from his cousin Jack's garden, which Jack had been good enough to bring in person, after which they had watched Jeopardy, and Monday Night Football. Somebody on the second floor turned on a TV, and Pedro was sure he wouldn't be able to hear whoever was talking again, and he just had to know what it was about. He could hear Oprah tell somebody she was a survivor, but he didn't know who it was. "Give me back my monkey." He could barely hear the voice over the audience's applause, and it sounded more desperate than ever. It was a woman's voice. Of this he was pretty sure, but she obviously smoked quite a bit, and had a deep, guttaral harshness like shoes on broken glass. Oprah went to commercial, and it was even louder than the show. Pedro was growing frustrated; uneasy; morbidly obsessed. Pedro padded slowly out the door of the obscene apartment, his stocking feet swishing lightly over the faded linoleum of the grim hallway. He went softly into the stairwell, past the third and second floors, and made his way to the first floor, where he took a left, and shuffled aimlessly along, listening. He heard a key turn in a lock on the front door, and then creaking, footsteps, and the door slamming shut again. Somebody went up the first flight of stairs, and then was walking above Pedro's head. He heard more keys, and then all proof of the unidentified person's existance disappeared in the slam of the apartment door. Pedro walked along the hallway for awhile, all the way down to where it joined up with the other building. Whoever he'd heard, they couldn't possibly be that far away. He checked the second and third floors in the same ambling fashion, all the while wondering what possible insanity he'd been an unwilling witness to, when he looked out a small window in the third floor hallway, and saw a woman in a black dress carrying a stuffed monkey. So that was all it was. Probably her and her boyfriend had broken up, and he wouldn't give her a stuffed animal he won for her at the fair. Pedro was insanely disappointed by this development, and he trudged sullenly back to his apartment, to make that omellette, and see if any good movies were coming on. He walked into the bathroom, and was about to relieve himself, when he heard it again! "Give me back my monkey." It was much louder and clearer from the bathroom, and since the vent was in the ceiling, and not the floor, Pedro began to wonder if it was coming from above. He made his his way up to the fifth floor, and as he was walking past a big hole in the plaster of the stairwell, he got a good look at the ductwork coming out of his apartment. It was headed up to the roof. Pedro wasn't sure if he was supposed to go up on the roof, but he'd often noticed the little ladder hanging from the hatch that said "roof," and since there was a place for a padlock, but no lock, he decided he would take a chance. He had to use all of his might to force it open, and when he did, the wind whipped his hair into his face, momentarily blinding him. It was raging like a hurricane up there, which he hadn't expected. He pulled his hair off to one side, and when he did, he couldn't believe what he saw.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Chris Link on 9/19/2002; 12:07 AM Dang it Richard. What did he saw? What did he saw?
Re: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Seth Dillingham on 9/19/2002; 9:19 AM On 9/19/02, Richard Davidson said: >He pulled his hair off to one side, and when he did, he couldn't >believe what he saw. Man I really hate it when you do that.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Rachelle King on 9/19/2002; 7:37 PM Aw! Come on! That's just not right. Now I am going to be distracted for the entire duration of my stats class. F-O-U-L!
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Richard Davidson on 9/19/2002; 7:56 PM But don't you get it? It's the end! No matter what I write, it won't be as good as what you'd imagine, because of the title, and the story. Does anybody see that, or am I going to have to write an ending? I almost guarantee you, no matter what I write, it will disappoint you, because you've already thought of something else. And frankly, I don't have a clue what I WOULD write. But if everybody insists, I'll give it a try, but I'm warning you, it could suck!
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Rachelle King on 9/19/2002; 8:52 PM "I almost guarantee you, no matter what I write, it will disappoint you, because you've already thought of something else." Well, don't do that next time.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Richard Davidson on 9/19/2002; 10:49 PM OK, this is one possible ending. Personally, I don't care for it much: Standing atop the chimney stack was a horrible gross thing, with green scaley skin, covered in blood and some kind of disgusting slime, which it was licking at with a horrible slimey green tongue. It's horrible yellow eyes were fixed on Pedro, as it prepared to pounce. Lying beneath it were a pair of women's shoes, a scarf, half a pair of sunglasses and a leash that connected the bone of a human hand to the foot of a monkey. On the ledge, a few feet away, perched on the grill of the ventilator shaft to get out of the high wind, sat a parrot. "Give me back my monkey," it said, as the horrible gross thing pounced, just as Pedro slammed the hatch, falling in a heap on the floor of the hallway. He ran as fast as he could down all five flights of stairs, stumbling several times, and hitting his chin on the second floor railing, biting his tongue in the process. The taste of blood added just the right touch of urgency, and Pedro was out the door, in his car, and on the Expressway before Mrs. Fitzgerald could say, "what is that horrible gross thing on the roof?" and he never stopped until he was almost out of gas. It was late, and Pedro filled up at a small, isolated gas station on one of those lonely exits where the wind never stops blowing. He went into the Men's room, did his business, and was just getting ready to wash up when he heard a rustling sound. In the mirror, he could see a parrot out of the corner of his eye, perched on the door of the stall. Inside the gas station, the attendant was watching an infomercial about making money. The next day, he would watch balefully as Carl Thayer hooked Pedro's car up, and towed it away.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Seth Dillingham on 9/20/2002; 8:07 AM On 9/19/02, Richard Davidson said: >And frankly, I don't have a clue what I WOULD write. > >But if everybody insists, I'll give it a try, but I'm warning you, it >could suck! I don't really expect endings from you, Richard, it just drives me nuts that I forget that fact every time I start reading your stuff. :-) Even with your absurdity, you manage to draw us in and flip those virtual pages as fast as we can. That last page is always missing, though.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Rachelle King on 9/20/2002; 6:43 PM That was perty groovy! I don't expect endings, either. That ending was not really an ending: More like a David Lynch-style finishing polish. Leaving out the entire monster description would work, as well. For instance, leaping from, "he pulled his hair off to one side, and when he did, he couldn't believe what he saw," straight to , "he ran as fast as he could down all five flights of stairs, stumbling several times, and hitting his chin on the second floor railing, biting his tongue in the process." Then you would have to work in the bit about the parrot somehow. I know, you could have the parrot perched right beneath the roof door as Pedro comes back down saying "Give me back my monkey." Pedro could pause and gawk at it, like "What the ..., I thought I just heard it coming form the roof, though." Then take off running again. Then later, when he's at the isolated gas station and he sees the parrot, readers would be like, "what the..." Finally, when the gas attendant is watching Pedro's vaccant car being towed away with Pedro no where in sight, the reader is still left imagining the countless possibilites of Pedro's fate!!! MWA-HA-HA! Sorry, I watch too many David Lynch flicks...
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Seth Dillingham on 9/20/2002; 7:02 PM On 9/20/02, Rachelle King said: >Then later, when he's at the isolated gas station and he sees the >parrot, readers would be like, "what the..." Finally, when the gas >attendant is watching Pedro's vaccant car being towed away with Pedro >no where in sight, the reader is still left imagining the countless >possibilites of Pedro's fate!!! MWA-HA-HA! We'd probably think it was the parrot that killed poor Pedro.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Richard Davidson on 9/20/2002; 11:21 PM Or I could've just had it be Ann Coulter.
RE: The Horrible Gross Thing That Eats Monkeys By: Rachelle King on 9/21/2002; 1:42 PM ???
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