The Monkey Thief
i think that today i will tell you a little story.
who wants to hear a story? gather round. get some milk and graham crackers.
i'll, uh, think of a story.
The Magnificent Tale of the Monkey Thief
there's a photo on the wall in my bedroom. a beach at sunset. an islet off the amber hued sands blocks the dying glare of sun, letting its light stream through the clouds. across the beach, the beach on borneo, a lithe monkey scampers collecting shellfish. his form is silhouetted in the dusk. he is the monkey thief.
agnesz and piotr sit next to me at breakfast. they're czech. they've been volunteering in east timor and now work their way back home. i've bought some cereal and some soy milk. the monkey thief eyes us from the lawn below our wooden deck. behind us is the jungle. the real jungle. the Borneo jungle which swallows tourists whole, such as the Swedish woman who wandered lost for a day and a half just this week. in front of us is the beach and the monkey thief.
except now the monkey thief is behind us, and he has my soy milk in his nimble fingers. i'll have to eat my cereal dry.
i laugh and grumble and agnesz and piotr exchange a look. piotr says to me, "we have this problem, too, these monkeys. they rip into our tent."
"oh no," i say. "you didn't have food in your tent, did you? they warned us. no food."
"no. we have no food. it was... it was, uh (whisper whisper) what you say? all of agnesz' cosmetics and, uh, the medicine. the medicine i have for diarrhea."
(beat)
(embarassed smile)
"so," i say, "somewhere in the jungle there is a monkey wearing agnesz' lipstick who has eaten an entire bottle of anti-diarrhea meds?"
"yes. this is maybe so."
i say, "my friend ingrid took one of those pills. she didn't poop for five days. we were worried."
"the monkey. i am sure he is smaller than your friend. he is a small monkey. he eats the whole bottle of the pills. he eats the lipstick. he tears our tent."
and that's what i want you to picture. picture yourself walking down the jungle trail at dusk, pushing back the hanging vines to find the monkey thief covered in lipstick, desperate to poop. like some frantic clown.
why this story comes to mind, i do not know. we sure had fun imitating the monkey thief though.
