Words for My Enjoyment

If I Had A Monkey On My Back

October 22nd, 2005

He would say things like, “Hey, dude. Paul. Turn left up here. They were working on that sidewalk last week and the cement is totally uneven. And I know you’re wearing those new shoes and if you hate messing up the heels of a brand new pair of shoes like I do then you’ll hang a left, buddy, and do us both a favor because if you complain later that your shoes are messed up and didn’t listen to me, well, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Aah. My monkey on my back.

What would be even more awesome would be when I was in meetings, interviews or brow-beating sessions (where someone was telling me I did something wrong and I’d better learn or else) I could have the monkey on my back make screeching sounds to communicate my inner frustrations without them being directly linked to me.

“Oh, no I don’t know what Poompah is screeching about. He gets that way sometimes. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that you just suggested that my work ethic is so bad that someone should hit me in the face with a dumbell every time I staple papers from the back and not the front…”

Also, if I ever found myself out at one of those dinners with people who were boring the hell out of me, I could just have Poompah start defecating all over the table and then as he jumped back onto my shoulder (I’d have some kind of shoulder guard up there just in case he was, you know, not finished) I’d say, “Umm…yeah. Think it’s time to go. Seems like Poompah has a nervous stomach tonight. May have been the spoon he ate, but you never know.”

There would, of course, be the ultimate situation — Halloween. No longer would I have to dress up and try to scare kids coming to my door. Instead, I would dress up Poompah like the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz and when I opened the door I would allow Poompah to jump off my shoulder and onto any child he saw fit to jump onto — at which point he would be skilled in both messing up their hair and using his sleight of hand to sneak candy out of their candy bag… He would return their candy, while they screamed, into my candy dish — making the giving out of candy on Halloween a no-cost issue for me… As I would never be depleting my own candy supply.

Every once in awhile I’d look to the monkey on my back and say something like, “Poompah?” And Poompah would jump down my shirt and then poke his head back out the neck part of it so we could look eye to eye and he’d say something like, “Eeeechhhhhh!” to which I’d reply, “Yeah, Poompah. It’s not so bad, you and me.”

We’d live happily ever after.

Well, except for having to wear that shoulder guard thing all the time. I mean, it’s practical sure — but it ain’t no fashion statement.

Posted under What If. |