Sneaky Monkey

She's sleeping right now, so I'm using her computer to order organic bananas and primate porn. My name is Monkey Baby and I'm an 8" tall, mystically-animated stuffed Capuchin monkey. Sci rescued me from the clearance bin at the Wild Oats market after I told her that she needed some Ephedra in the worst way. I had to ride home dangling upside down from the rearview mirror for that one. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I take care of her as best I can. I am good at converation and, fortunately, share the same taste in television programs and movies. We look forward to our daily schedule of television viewing - The Lost World, Buffy, Angel, Charmed, ER, etc. and I was the one who suggested the purchase of wireless headphones so that we could blast our evening movies and not have the neighborhood rioting on the front porch. My pair came special order...I am also responsible for helping her sleep at night. Me and the new sleeping pills her doctor prescribed. I help her pick her clothes when she has to run errands and sit on her lap when she reads. We are good friends.

Sci hasn't touched her computer in weeks, it seems. She turned it on today and, wow. I have never heard her shriek like that. She started on about over 300 new email messages. That warranted an extra big gulp of iced coffee. She got depressed for a long time when she found out that her friend's father had passed on. I think she cried, too, but she had me faced the other direction so as not to read her mail, so I can't be sure. Then she got even more depressed when she rememebered that she had forgotten to send a thank you card to a friend who had sent her two glorious photographs. I've seen them - a beautiful flower and a sparkling ocean scene - hanging in the guest bedroom and in the hallway. People remark on them when they come by, along with the mirror made by another talented friend (Sci has no artistic talent, so she tries to surround herself with evidence that real artists do exist in the world). We had a discussion about friendship afterwards and agreed that hers were the best in the world. They care, check in, worry, laugh, bless...no matter what, Sci feels as rich as Rockefeller.

Because I've been a good monkey, Sci says I can go to Alaska next week. I don't have a passport or ticket, but Sci says she can smuggle me shipboard and onto Canadian soil(if required) without incident. Her family has a history of smuggling. Her grandfather brought a rather sizeable quantity of fresh meat into Venezuela and his sisters carried a variety of seeds and plants from Venezuela back to the United States. Since no one attempted capture or prosecution the 20 or so years since these infractions of customs regulations, she figures the family has the right gene. I am looking forward to the trip very much and so is she. I already have a "monkey suit" (hah hah) and don't get seasick. Sci is still concerned about clothing, but she figures that since she isn't trolling for testosterone, A+ appearance is not really required. She is considering packing a sleeping bag, however, as it is totally possible that her friend will snag a hunk and require the stateroom for the evening. Fortunately, Sci is not averse to camping, as long as the buffet and public facilities are readily available.

I try to be a good cheerleader for Sci. I give her a good pep talk every time she is having a bad joint/muscle day or looks particularly pregnant. I tell her I love her and give her big hugs. She is still contemplating a live pet, but assures me that she will instruct the beast against making me an afternoon snack. Right now she is recovering from the past several days of 95+ degree heat. She is a cheap femme and doesn't have air conditioning. One day was so hot that we relocated to the public library for the afternoon. I enjoyed that. We got books and lounged on a soft bench. She read something by William Gibson and I read Curious George. She said that when my reading skills improve, I should check out Pierre Boulle. With a French name, I bet he's good with the ooh-lah-lah language....

Well, I think she's waking up. She naps a lot, which is fine with me as I can raid the fridge and make long-distance phone calls. But, she doesn't like me playing on the computer as I'm not educated in the ways of avoiding spyware and have an unfortunate tendency of signing up for mailing lists using her email address. This was fun though. When I get my own computer, I'm going to have a blog. I shall call it Going Bananas.....