Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," the blog where we boldly go where no man has gone before (to the devil with inclusive language) to ask such seminal questions as: At the Pentecost, did St. Peter speak Spanish? And, when did his successors start wearing kingly attire and waving from balconies? Shouldn't they be on boats, surrounded by fish nets?
Well, even I have to take a break occasionally from such deep speculation. It tires your brain out. So today I introduce a new subplot to "The Gods Are Bored": Monkey Man Sightings.
Sunday, April 24, 2005 MONKEY MAN SIGHTING
Does your town have a Monkey Man? Ours does, and he rocks. He rides around on an old bicycle, with one of those wire mesh baskets hanging from the handlebars. In that basket he carries his toy stuffed monkey, sometimes some other stuffed toys, and maybe some things he's trash-picked (today it looked like he had a fox pelt in there).
The Monkey Man is known far and wide in this district for greeting kids with his monkey. "Hi, kids! Ooooo oooo oooo AAAH AAAH AAAAH!" Lately his monkey has been wearing a tie-dyed baby t-shirt. He never lingers. He just greets and moves on.
Oh, I can feel the frisson of anxiety from all my Dr. Laura fans. Isn't this a dangerous child molester, a murderous freak trying to lure innocents to their death? Well, folks, the jury's out, but someone (I forget who, Shakespeare maybe) said "judge not, lest ye be judged." Our local Monkey Man is well-groomed, he shops at the grocery store and chats with the cashiers, he eats at the pizza parlor, he attends football games. If you asked the average kid around here to describe the Monkey Man, they could do it in a flash. He's not trying to fly under the radar.
He's just mysterious. He peddles around, shakes his monkey at kids and adults, laughs and smiles all the time. And let's rule out mental simplicity right now. He had a New York Times with him today. And that's not even the local rag.
Would I let him take my daughter out for an ice cream? No. Would I treat him to the extra large size if I ran into him at the ice cream parlor? You betcha.
Our Monkey Man is a great Monkey Man, and inspired Monkey Man, a highly motivated and resourceful Monkey Man. At a convention of Monkey Men, he'd stand out. To tell you more about how smart he is would reveal too much about the location of this humble scribe (moi), who is frankly more frightened of Opus Dei than she is of Monkey Men.
Anyway, today's Monkey Man sighting was right in front of my house! Yes, I just happened to come outside right when he was peddling by. I made him stop and let me shake his monkey's hand. He smiled and waved at my daughter. Then he rode on, smiling. And I smiled too. The Monkey Man always makes me smile.
My daughter had to run inside and call all her friends to tell them she saw the Monkey Man. It's always an occasion. Okay, yes, Dr. Laura, my daughter is not your average white-bread brat. Perhaps that's because she doesn't feel like she owns me, she's got to be a little bit motivated and resourceful herself.
This is the second time I've seen the Monkey Man on my street. The last time was the dead of winter. So he's an infrequent visitor. We will keep track of him on this blog, to alleviate the tedium of discussing what sort of food is right to serve at Christian meetings and whether or not the Lord's Prayer ought to end with "For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever and ever and ever..." you know the drill.
If your town has a Monkey Man, I'll bet it has fairies as well. Oh, lucky you!
Anne is a Fan of the Monkey Man
