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A Monkey

I no longer remember how it started, but a fellow blogger mentioned something about Justin Bieber and his monkey.  I responded by suggesting that Bieber and his monkey would make a great prompt for a writing exercise.

Well, damn, if We Drink Because We’re Poets didn’t take the suggestion.  Sahm and Papi are making major efforts to give us writers and poets some prompts to keep the creative juices flowing.  So, Bieber and his monkey is it.  Their first in weekly short story prompts.  The beginning of the effort.  Given my role in the creation, I felt I had no choice.  Although, this is most decidedly not really a short story …


When your monkey spits on you, what do you do?

“Does wu wuv me?”

And the damn monkey spits at you again.

You lock it in a cage.

When your pal Mally the Monkey glares at you and hisses, what do you do?

“Mally, wu wuv me, yes wu do.”

You speak in baby talk.

And the damn monkey spits again.

When your monkey is all that you’ve left and it pulls at your hair and defecates – aka takes a shit – on itself, what do you do?

More importantly is this very small question.  Why a monkey?

I think of it this way.  Michael Jackson.  Bubbles the Monkey.  Well, that didn’t turn out so well.  Teenage sensation.  Heartthrob.  Millionaire before you can figure out how many zeroes that involves.  Odd behavior.  Maybe you want to stay away from the primates.  Get yourself a damn gecko.  Or a beta.  Here’s a novel idea.  A cocker spaniel.  A house with a white picket fence.  A wife and 2.2 children.  An album once a year and a tour that follows it.

Better yet, maybe you oughta take care of yourself first.  Stop showing up in canary yellow hats, fake glasses, and wifebeater t-shirts.  Show a little respect for yourself.  Stop playing to the image.  Be you.  Only you.  You don’t need a damn monkey.

You know how it ended for that other guy, right?  Children in his bed.  A nose that got ever smaller.  Death at a ridiculously early age.  And years of nothing that approached the creativity and value of his earliest efforts.

Genius is a fragile thing.  That said, you actually don’t yet qualify as a genius.  But you’re squandering what little bit you have nonetheless.  Think about it … squandered genius that doesn’t yet exist.  How does that happen?

Well, maybe you were never a genius.  Maybe you were never as talented as you thought you were.  Maybe all those screaming tweeners didn’t realize you were all glitz and show and emptiness.  Nothing more than a packaged, processed bit of Velveeta.  Nothing more than fifteen minutes of fame meant to make money for somebody else.  The producers.  The promotors.  The record companies.  But, you, just an empty vessel for their profits.

And, years from now, when you sit on the porch of a beat up house in the middle of nowhere, or in the middle of urban hell, or in the middle of nothing, and you look back you’ll realize.  Wow, I was Justin f’in Bieber and I had a chance.  And I blew it.  I failed to bother with the future.  I failed to see that fame is a fleeting thing.  I believed what people said of me instead of thinking for myself.  And I got myself a damn monkey.

That spits on me.

That wuvs me nonetheless.

I think.


19 responses to “A Monkey

  1. Sahm King May 4, 2013 at 9:19 pm

    Reblogged this on The Arkside of Thought and commented:
    Wow. And to this I say, a-friggin-men.

  2. Sahm King May 4, 2013 at 9:23 pm

    I’m certain that I can’t file a civil suit for busting a gut, because that’s not considered “pain and suffering” as busting a gut is a good thing, so I guess I’ll forgo that point and, instead, applaud you, sir.

    Mark, this was AWESOME. I’m not sure what else to say beyond that. Awesome is the only word I can seem to think of, at the moment. I’m not sure how serious you are about this, but behind the humor is the reality of the pop icon in the picture you’ve painted so vividly. As I was reading this, I found myself shivering, as if I were said pop icon, reflecting on my life, and my own future, wondering at where the time went, and how exactly I squandered all of my opportunities only to end up a nobody living in a dump… This amused me and scared me at the same time.

    Awesome is not the right word. I think the right word goes far beyond awesome.

    • kingmidget May 4, 2013 at 9:28 pm

      All I can say is that I’m humbled by your words. Thank you, sir. Thank you.
      As for the dilemma you pose … as serious as a … well, the analogy escapes me. The shallowness and shortsightedness of these fools never ceases to amaze me.

  3. Charles Yallowitz May 5, 2013 at 3:57 am

    I totally agree about the genius thing. What if he is being the real him?

    • kingmidget May 5, 2013 at 7:05 am

      That is, unfortunately, a legitimate question. My fear is people like Bieber have grown up in an artificial world. He maybe never has had a chance to find the real him. Kind of like Lindsey Lohan.

      • Charles Yallowitz May 5, 2013 at 10:48 am

        Guess that’s the risk, but there are those who grow up in that world and find their real self. Jodi Foster, Drew Barrymore (eventually), Dakota Fanning, and Leonardo Dicaprio seem to have come out of it unscathed. The person probably has to want some sense of normalcy in order to reach it.

      • Bastet May 5, 2013 at 11:46 am

        Unfortunately these kids all too often never move on…Michael Jackson is the first to come to mind…and look at all the problems child actors have had…I don’t think it’s a problem of being a genius, but a problem of having an interruped childhood.

  4. Bastet May 5, 2013 at 5:19 am

    Well written laddy…you’ve done your duty to society! 😉

  5. Bastet May 5, 2013 at 5:20 am

    Reblogged this on Bastet and Sekhmet and commented:
    Yet anothe Bieber monkey story…it’s fantastic how you can get so many angles!

  6. Kathy May 5, 2013 at 5:26 am

    Loved this.

    • kingmidget May 5, 2013 at 7:07 am

      Thank you. It’s odd. I wrote this in about five minutes. Considered it to be a throw-away piece. It certainly has received great comments, however.

  7. MT BLU May 5, 2013 at 6:59 am

    LMAO!!! I enjoyed your post so much so that I read it twice. 🙂

    I see the parallel between packaged, processed Velveeta cheese and Justin Bieber. They’re both lacking the main ingredient: substance.

    “Substance is enduring, form is ephemeral.” ~ Dee Hock

  8. Pingback: My Response To The Wednesday Short Story Prompt #1 | The Ranting Papizilla

  9. Pingback: Short Story Satire: The Justin Bieber and his monkey | Bastet and Sekhmet

  10. Pingback: Results Post: Short Story Prompt #1 | We Drink Because We're Poets

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