…and now I have to write something to mellow me down. I’ll write a ridiculous story for fun.
This story is inspired by: my inability to go to sleep, MailChimp monkey, and a pink sweater.
The Disapproving Monkey
There is a disapproving monkey on my front steps and he won’t leave me alone. He nags at me when I wear a pink sweater because he thinks it makes me look weak. But all I think about is Molly Ringwald and sitting on dining room tables and talking to a cute boy with a cake. A flipping delicious cake. Ugh, John Hughes is a genius.
But the Monkey-Man just shakes his head in a disapproving manner. There are days when it takes me an extra two minutes to put on my pleather boots. The brown ones that don’t have a zipper. The kind that I have to untie and tie to put on and off. This drive the Monkey crazy. He taps his foot on the ground and says, “Why do you always wait until the last minute?”
And he used me to make me sad when he would make these kind of comments. But now I just click my tongue because it makes him squeamish. He bounces back in horror at the sound of my tongue and teeth reverberating a click sound with the roof of my mouth.
“Let me be!” I tell him and wear my pink sweater for the third day in a row.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make this monkey happy. And you know what? It’s not my job. So he can stay there on the steps, judging me all he wants. In the end, my pink sweater keeps me warm.
Though now it’s starting to look a little haggard, it still reminds me of pretty, and sixteen, and Hughes, and a kid named Duckey who lip syncs to Otis Redding.