Monkey & Man

A black van drove down between flourishing, yet tiddly-trimmed hedges that lined the entrance to your typical rich asshole’s big mansion. Man was rich by his own right, acquiring untold billions by being a man. It wasn’t hard for someone named Man.

Today, Man was excited. Not sexually, oh no, no. He isn’t one of those typical rich assholes. See, today he was going to be meeting a new friend.

The van pulled up to the entrance of Man’s mansion, the man Man waiting by the entrance. This is going to be the most awesome day ever he thought. He thought.

Two large, assuming ‘gentleman’ stepped out of the cargo van, ready to be done and unloaded of this abomination they had listened to over the course of several hours. It nearly broke them.

“Hurray, he’s here, he’s here!” Man excitedly exclaimed, acting like a total twat. The two large men looked at him as though he was a retard.

The former passenger of the van pulled out a touchpad, telling Man to sign where it says sign. Man scribbled his name into the electronic screen, sealing his fate and his soul. Dark powers were behind this, but Man was more excited for what he signed for.

The bulky beefcakes unlatched the back of the van and began unloading the precious cargo. It rattled and shook, the sounds of quick pitter-patter feet knocking on the bottom of the wooden crate marked “X”.

They flipped the crate in the air, causing it to tumble over a few times before landing with a heavy thud and a sharp snap from inside the crate.

“Hope it killed the motherfucker” The driver calmly said, getting into the van with his partner, peeling out a stream of gravel at Man’s screaming face, and speeding out the way and out the story.

Man wasn’t sure what to do next. He usually had someone do it for him. His years of being one of the richest people on the planet had made him quite unworth his wealth. All he knew how to do know was to tell people what to do for him. It was fucking annoying.

The crate simply had the “X” burned in to one side, and the warning triangles for corrosive acid taped on one of the corners. Man thought it was some mistake, but it couldn’t be. He had spent too much money for any mistakes.

Man considered his generosity to be one of his finer traits, so it was without hesitation that he adopted the contents of the crate as soon as it was listed. He was the only one with enough resources to take care of such a thing. And he was, truthfully, lonely. Perhaps this would be a cure to that, a double-whammy on his investment.

As he was about to summon the gardener or someone, anyone, to open the crate, a spinning whirl sound came from within and exploded the crate into splinters, throwing Man to the ground.

“OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” He screamed, thinking he was about to die.

“Close, but no cigar” came a slouchy-accent from the powdered wood and sawdust. A singular chimpanzee stood there, no sign of any speaking person.

“WHO SAID THAT?!” Man screamed, desperate to have the excitement just stop. Now he needed to buy something expensive to calm his nerves.

“I did”, the chimpanzee cooly replied, as he lit his thumb on fire, used his burning flesh to light up a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, and then extinguish said flaming thumb up his asshole. It was one of the most beautiful and disgusting things Man had ever witnessed.

“Wow, I can’t believe they sent me a talking monkey!” Man exclaimed, impressed beyond his wildest imagination. They said it was a very unique specimen. They weren’t lying like they did about those black-market organs a few years ago!

At that statement, the talking chimpanzee ran over to Man and slapped him open-palm with the still-burning cigarette. A dazzling display of sparks flew as Man screamed from the burning embers shoved into his cheek-flesh.

“I ain’t no bamboo-chomping monkey, motherfuckerino. I am proud chimpanzee.” Monkey flexed his raggedy muscles, showing nothing but matted clumps of ungroomed hair, the smell nearly making Man vomit.

“YOU ever call me a monkey again, I’ll rape your cat in front of you.” Monkey lit another cigarette with his signature flaming-ass-thumb trick. “And if you don't have a cat, I’ll make you buy me one to rape. Actually, we should probably have a few cats on stand-by. I’m kinda in the mood now.”

Man was at loss of vernacular, caught in the wonder, petulance, and perplexities of a speaking chimp talk about violating felines with his vile penis. Man looked at where it should be. All he could make out was more matted clumps of chimp hair mixed in with some calico and gray fur that does not naturally grow on chimpanzees. Man’s entire body shuddered at the thought of where it did come from.

After some time had passed and the chimpanzee had chain-smoked about 8 more cigarettes, Man was finally able to use his vocabulary once again.

“Wha-” He cough-cleared his throat in an annoyingly cunty manner. “What should I call you then?”

The chimp gave a wide, black-toothed grin at the question.

“Call me Monkey! Monkey T. Chimpanzee! Exploding crates and raping cats is just a small part of my schtick!”

“Sh-sh-schtick?” Man clumsily asked.

“You know, bubs, what I’m all about.” Monkey then dug in his cigarette pack and couldn’t fish out another smoke. He slammed the empty package to the ground and violently ripped the paper to shreds with all four opposable thumbs, screaming an awful chimpanzee scream the whole time. Man covered his ears.

Monkey stopped.

“Got a smoke?” Monkey asked, erupting into furious laughter worse than the screaming. Man kept his hands over his ears.

Monkey lifted one hairy brow, picked a flea off of it, and then flicked it in Man’s direction. He sprawled open his arms in amazement, twirling himself around and taking in the magnificent sight of Man’s front gardens and mansion. Monkey was truly impressed. For a chimp, he didn’t get to be around too much opulence.

“I had a famous cousin, ya know?” Monkey said.

“Really?” Man answered incredulously.

“Yeah, some rich, white bitch bought him. Used to fuck him, my cousin. He finally snapped one day and tore off her friend’s face in a jealous rage.” Monkey scratched his dick, hidden deep within his, and other's, fur. “You rich people are really fucked up, ya know?”

Man still held a sense of disbelief in these moments. It’s not everyday that Dunston checks in, and it’s even rarer when he tells you to fuck off. Man had to know more about Monkey before allowing him more access to his property.

“So, Monkey..” Man started saying but was violently thrown to the ground, Monkey exposing his rotting teeth like a feral animal.

Monkey then stopped in realization and threw his gaping jaws into a smile. A disgusting, cavity-ridden, moss growing, putrid smile.

“Sorry about that, bub, I thought you were calling me a monkey instead of my name, Monkey.” Monkey then tried helping man back onto his feet by lifting him off the ground.

“It’s quite alright, I’m sure it happens all the time to you!” Man passively lashed out.

Monkey immediately released his grip and allowed Man to fall back on the ground. His mouth was agape in awe.

“How did you, know?” Monkey asked, helping Man back up again. He dusted the gravel off Man’s back, smacking hard. “Are you a wizard?”

Man gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “No, no, no, Monkey. My name is Man, and I am now your caretaker.”

Monkey laughed loud and obnoxiously, comparable to a donkey.

“HA! YOUR NAME IS MAN!? That’s the stupidest fucking name I ever…”

Monkey stopped mid-sentence and then flipped the fuck out. He started hopping around and dancing like King Louie. The chimp was livid with joy.

“I’ve finally struck it rich, fuck yeah!” He fell down on his knees and raised his hands in prayer. “Thank you so much, sweet Jesus, lord above! Thank you for blessing me with all this bounty, even after all those horrible things I said, and wrote, and thought, and did…”

Man interrupted. “Monkey, I believe it is time we had a talk about who you are and what you can do, both in spirit and actuality.”

“Actu-what-shit silly?” Monkey sneered.

Monkey pulled out a little pocket knife kept in one of his various patches of fur. The blade was only an inch or two, but it scared the shit out of Man, what with Monkey swinging it madly around.

“Listen, el Man-er-ino, I don'st like being talked down to, so you best be speaking plain fucking English, like the rest of us, or I can cut you down a few notches, starting with your dick or something.” Monkey started swinging the pocket knife around in Man’s dick direction.

Man gave a temporary sigh of relief. “I am so sorry, Monkey.” He knew the way to an animal's heart was to treat them with love and compassion. Man was a philanthropist after all. He knew love and compassion was done by giving some of his money away. This time, he could share his wealth with a whole new sentient species, a first! What words will be spoken of Man at the next gala or fancy event of other rich assholes? He could only imagine.

Man showed Monkey to the front door of his Mansion. The doors were solid oak, thick enough to withstand a .357 round at point blank range. Man found this out because Monkey pulled a revolver out from another matted patch of living fur, and shot.

“Nice fucking wood!” Monkey yelled in approval, kicking it in, and walking into the foyer.

He jumped, leapt, and sprang about the mansion for the next twelve hours, making sure to leave some of his feces hidden about in every room. It was both a prank and a marking of territory, to let the other apes and mammals know that he was, quote, “king-fucking-shit ‘round ‘ere.”

Man did little to stop it, except for a few pathetic attempts. Monkey knew he could take Man in fisticuffs, but he also knew a quick jab to his eyeball would take Man out for the count. Monkey hoped it didn't come to that, but he couldn't say he wouldn’t enjoy feeling his thumb jelly-up Man’s contents of his coronal sockets. He liked making jelly out of stuff.

In fact, he was making jelly out of Man’s extensive wine collection, found amongst the last of his exploratory introduction to the mansion. And by making jelly, that meant he was drinking all the wine and pissing an oozy substance back into the bottles.

“What are you doing?” Man asked, more concerned for the wine than for the “product” Monkey was making out of it.

Monkey gave Man a dismissive wave. “Don’t trip, bubs, I ain’t even buzzed. Well, buzz buzzed anyways.” Monkey wretched out a throaty chunk of phlegm and spat it’s yellow-green colored mucus all over the wall. “Needs way more sugar in your juice boxes though!”

Man composed himself, thinking that this was the moment, this was when he needs to implement his dominance in a non-aggressive manner.

“Monkey, perhaps we should talk about what is yours and what is mine around here.”

Monkey spat a mouth full of wine out with another donkey laugh. “Aww shit Man, you can be a real funny dude!”

Monkey then smashed a bottle of Dom Perignon, swinging it wildly around, and using his makeshift shiv much the same way as his pocket knife previously.

Monkey narrowed his bloodshot eyes into Man’s. “But fucking talk to me like that again, and I will murder you in your sleep.”

The silence hung for a good minute, neither primate moving, minus Man’s quivering spine.

Monkey didn’t like quiet. He threw the bottle down and gave Man a giant hug. The smell of Monkey wafted up into Man’s nostrils, causing him to gag. He threw up a little in his mouth as well, but was able to swallow it back down.

“Awww, don’t get all choked up there, bubs. I love you too” Monkey cooed, mistaking Man’s involuntary gagging reflex for tears of joy. “You know, I think I’m going to like it here with you.”

Man smiled, the warmth of Monkey’s weirdly affectionate words buring the deep regret of Man’s philanthropic decision. Still, like George Clooney with a refugee on his front porch, he was having second thoughts.

Monkey was also having second thoughts. Only his were repeats of what he envisioned doing to cats. So many cats.

And that’s how Monkey and Man met.