Thursday, March 30, 2006

Simian Rage

Monkeys. A monkey can put on a face of almost unbearable cuteness as it snatches your last banana from your knapsack, leaving you to starve to death in the humid jungle. A monkey can point you out to the nearest poisonous snake, screetch with laughter as the snake sinks its fangs into your naked flesh, then tell you it was only a joke and wasn't it terribly funny really as you lie expiring in a pile of rotten leaves and shit.
I know this because both my lover and I are monkeys. (Among other things.) Monkeys are the most evil creatures in the galaxy, but always get off scott-free, because it was all just such a big jive, only kidding, don't take things so seriously, or else you are a truly boring individual with no brains at all to speak of.

BUT. Tables turned, and simian rage is a truly terrible sight to behold. Although often short-lived, this rage can leave a whirlwind of destruction that is almost as harmful as the monkey's jokes.
I know this because my lover is forever playing silly tricks on me and I am forever getting turning livid with indignation, a storm of fury most often directed inwards. I'm less of the tricks kind of monkey and more of the curious kind, so I don't incite his rage as much. Other things and creatures do though, and then WATCHOUT! Kabaam! Pow! Sperloosh! Tu est fini.

The funnyest joke my darling ever played on me AND himself (completely "unintentional" of course, was to take a small seed of his own, crystalise it, and hide it behind a church in an unmarked suitcase. Unbeknownst to anyone, the seed took root and sprouted. While I was making my love known to my lover, the seed was growing in the dark warmth of the inverted universe. When I first made love to my lover, the seed was busy growing gills, a tale, dolphin fingers and luminous eyes. When took the job piloting his ship, a promotion from secretary, the seed was born forth on the tide and became into the world.

Years later, as I was contentedly watching a homosexual porno movie with our homophobic butler, my lover burst into the room.
"I have a responsibility, but I'm not responsible!" he cried
I was stunned from placid silence into mullet-like silence.
I became sad, I became angry, I became guilty because I was not entitled to have feelings, after all, it was nothing to do with me.
The responsive seed had been swimming, typing, and breathing underwater for four years, he said.

I was rage. I was rage in the monkey sense and the female sense and the universal sense. I was rage in the most un-sensible and insensible sense.

And the seed was a monkey.


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