Monkey Trouble

It was dark, cold and eerie. I didn't like it at all.1

The day started off like any other day; the paranoia, the loneliness, the isolation from the outside world. Some that sympathised with me could begin to understand why my paranoia grew; if they saw how my life was lived. The countryside was beautiful, the house was beautiful, hell even my carer was beautiful, but it just wasn’t the same as living near civilisation. The people making their way through the bustling streets, the unnoticed wildlife fending its way in the city; though there were the pesky Monkeys! There is none of them out here; however there aren’t many people either. The daily routine was the same, talking to me like I was a three year old, medicine at ten, medicine at one, medicine at five; just in time for bedtime. How convenient, oh sorry, that’s the paranoia coming through again.2

Everyday I’d do the same things; play outside with the ball, visit my quiet place; the tree in the bottom corner of the drifting garden that just seemed to go on. I’d recognised it to be 'monkey free' after a thorough survey. Don’t even get me started on the god damn monkeys. God if it wasn’t enough with letting them roam free in the streets but to be allowed into your homes, come on people! Privacy please! It was those little ‘cute’ ones, everybody loves them; you don’t see the side I see of them. Thieving little buggers they are, putting graffiti all over the streets, excreting near public places, swinging from lamppost to lamppost. God they anger me so much. Then of course when ever I complained it was the usual ignorant replies, "sir there are no monkeys", "sir are you ok", "sir do you need some water", and so on. The real thing to push me over the edge was half the time they had one of the poor excuses for a mammal behind them sitting on their sideboards or hanging out their window! Idiots! Then came the random accusations, "sir you’ve gone mad", "sir you’re bonkers", "please sir exit the building or I’ll have to call security". That guy woke up the next morning with a shiner of a black eye. Think he was a bit of a 'mummy’s boy' didn't put up much of a fight.3

Sorry got distracted there. My place was great, don’t get me wrong. The wilderness, the clean air; It was all good but there wasn’t much happening. When I said isolated, the place was full of crackpots. There was only me and the carers that were sane. I never and still don’t get why the hell my arsehole of a son sent me here. 'Menace to society' he called me before I got sent here; told him to look into the bleeding street with twenty thousand monkeys running riot and then call me that again. He soon shut up and left, told him good didn’t I! So yeah, I end up here for the next ten years, got to know the locals, old Pedro he was a blast till the flu caught up with him. Alice, she sure had a mad laugh on her, mad with everything sharp as well, soon had to lock up her, haha, Albert will always be my number one guy though. Daft bugger knew how to please me, he had this cool weapon, and he’d made it outta things you could find anywhere. Called it the 'monkey terminator'. If I ever saw one all I did was call him and he’d come speeding on his two wheeled mobile, his wheelchair, but he liked to call it that. Then with his 'monkey terminator' he would gracefully knock that son of a bitch monkey back to the pre-monkey ages.4

Damn shame it had to end this way though. Unlike Alice this funny bloke, always hiding in the silent places and shadows, kept his fascination with sharp objects quiet. He’d been sent in because of his Schizophrenia, you know, split personality and all that. Alan he was called, though now it doesn’t really matter what he’s called seen as though most of us who knew him are bleeding to death or are dead already! Damn idiots. He just snapped earlier this afternoon, he’d been on the recovery and was participating for the first time for a meal in the dinning room. First time he’d seen a metal knife. Well first time since he’d been admitted. So he snapped, clutched his new toy, slashed at his neighbouring diners. Slashed at the carers, slashed even more at the security. Good job I have my head screwed on right. I immediately ran from the hacker man’s immediate location.5

Hid in the furthest room I could find I did. Damn good thinker I am! The further the better. It was dark, cold and eerie. I didn't like it at all. But here was better than out there. It had been a few hours now, some of the stranglers were being found, the terrifying pain filled screams made it through the empty halls to wherever was possible to hear. I think I was in where the library used to be, it was empty of books now, just old scruffy furniture lay gathering dust. A bloody storm had begun to stir up. Bit ironic, or moronic, psychopath on the loose in mental home, and the storm arrives, must be some damn coincidence. Least the flipping monkeys won’t like it; word on the street is they don’t like rain. Idiots, its only rain! The night was getting on so to keep myself sane through the most exciting but most horrifying night of my life, I thought back to memories that were most clear in my mind. Most recent was the arrival of an actual monkey in my own home. Yeah I know I hear your disgust, terrible isn’t it what its come to when a man so against monkeys has to put up with one being in his home,. Don’t worry they got my full disapproval. Didn’t do much good though, damn monkeys.6

The door opened slowly and loudly. Shit I thought; didn’t think he’d find me here. There was one thing for it, run, run until I either got out or he got me. So I ran. I didn’t even have chance to see if it was him, I was too damn fast! But I heard his shrill exclaims and violent screeches follow me as I ran. Bursting through doors until I saw one room unlit. I jumped in and blocked the door. He must of seen me because he soon started to bang manically at the barricaded entranced. Then came a screech inside the room. Oh hell no. The psycho was ignored from my mind as I turned on the spot. Sure as my minds guess was. The monkey. I had to pick the room with a monkey in it didn’t I. Having no bananas on me I couldn’t shut the thing up, no weapon with me I couldn’t kill the bugger, I’d have to just block it out. Hard to do seen as though it was jumping and racing round the room, screeching at the top of its voice. Damn Monkeys.7

I was so preoccupied with the rebellious attitudes of the monkey I didn’t see Alan get in the room. He took mercy and didn’t stab me on his first attack. He pushed me down onto the floor. I slid across the room and into the chest of drawers. He slowly made his way to me. That evil gleam to his eyes, the broad toothy smile, the greasy hair, my god he was the full package, cut arms, scars of blood across his face where desperate female carers attempted to scratch his eyes out. That’s when I realised I’d lost the chance to bed my beautiful carer. Damn shame. Anyway he approaches me, I cower, I plead for mercy, hell I think I wet myself, I managed to push him back but he lunged on me and went to work with his knife. God damn it didn't think I would go this way, well until today. Looking back on it now it wasn’t as painful as it is assumed. The irony of it was the damn monkey. Ok so I hear the moans of how can he still go on bout the monkeys at a point like this, but that’s my paranoia. Anyway I’m there just bout dead and that bitch of a monkey jumps on Alan’s bleeding face, bites him here and there and as my vision fades I see the daft bugger stagger back and fall onto a deer’s antlers, spear him straight through his neck and shoulder they do, don’t ask me why the things were on the floor, but the guy is speared by these things and well is pretty much like me, dieing. The monkey satisfied with his job, comes and sits on top of my head in its hands and looking like its mourning. Ironic. Damn Monkeys8

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