Monkey, Wizard Award Options

[Guest_Toumai_*]

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs[/b]


Version published in Raw Edge Magazine, 2006

Monkey

The monkey is hideous. He glares from the comfort of Jess’s arms with a cross-eyed scowl. Even his fur looks mangy, shedding tufts of pink nylon on her midnight-blue velour dress.

‘Where on earth did you get him?

‘Daddy took me to the fair.’

‘Oh.’

If I don’t show any interest perhaps we can change the subject.

‘We went on the bumper cars and the big wheel and the bumper cars again and I had hot dog and candyfloss –’

‘So you had a good time.’ Distraction might work. ‘Would you like fish fingers or beans for tea?’

‘– and then Daddy wouldn’t let me go on the waltzers in case I was sick but we went on the ghost train and I was really really scared but Daddy held me very tight –’

Until quite recently he would have held me, too.

‘– and then Zoë was really really scared and Daddy had to hold her tight, too –’

‘Who is Zoë?’

‘– and then we all had a go at the coconuts and Daddy won this for me but it took him three goes and Zoë said they must be glued on –’

‘Who is Zoë?’

The sudden sharpness in my voice surprises Jess and she backs away, clutching the monkey even more tightly. ‘Daddy said I could keep him. Please Mummy?’

I take a deep steadying breath. ‘Of course you can.’

‘Can I sleep with him?’

‘Yes love.’ I stroke her hair, lower myself to sit on the kitchen floor so I’m on her level, ignoring the sticky patch my hand lands in. ‘Who is Zoë?’

Her small face wrinkles with the difficulty of answering my question. I try to help. ‘Is she little like you?’ Perhaps he has found a companion for Jess’s visits.

Jess shakes her head.

‘Is she like me?’

More thinking. Another shake of the head. ‘She’s very pretty. Like Snow White.’

Serves me right for asking. I feel sick, imagining them all eating candyfloss together. I can see Jess in her lilac waterproof, sticky and excited, Paul laughing heartily at one of his own jokes and Snow White trilling her animated approval as the fairground lights dance above them all and the music blares.

I should be there, too, offering this Zoë a secret taste of my own special toffee apple. The wicked witch. Yep, that’s me. If I get some poison into her she’ll be asleep forever; Paul will never pass muster as Prince Charming – or any kind of hero.

‘Can we have pizza?’ Jess asks.

‘Uh?’

‘Instead of fish fingers?’

The monkey leers at me, dangling like a deformed pink spider from the safety of my daughter’s arms.
‘I s’pose.’ I nod and head for the bathroom, where I can close the door and cry. I don’t want her to feel responsible for my mood.

And I don’t want that bloody monkey watching me, either.

* * * * * * * *

Rain squalls spit chill November misery across the vast shopping centre car park. Jess is taking forever getting her bag out of the car while I shiver impatiently.

‘Don’ wanna go with Daddy,’ she whines, ‘wanna go home.’

I slam the boot, tight-lipped; if she repeats that in front of Paul he’ll blame me. She has been grumpy since I started packing her things last night. Monkey is in her bag, but even his pink presence hasn’t cheered her.

A flurry of autumn leaves, once gold, now brown, swirl into a greasy puddle and are caught. ‘He took you to the fair last time, remember?’

‘Wanna go home.’

‘He gave you Monkey; you had a good time.’

‘Fair’s gone now.’

‘He’ll do something else nice. Maybe take you to Macdonald’s.’ Maybe with that Zoë.

‘He said I spoilt everything.’

‘He what?’

Again my sharpness alarms her; she hunches into her lilac mac and I curse my tongue.

‘Jess, what happened?’ Another spatter of bitter wind-swept rain douses my words. ‘C’mon, let’s get inside, then you can tell me all about it, okay?’

I shoulder her bag, grab her hand and we thread between rows of cars to the grand entrance to the mall. Inside I take a deep breath as the warmth hits us, heavy with perfume and overdosed on expensive filter coffee. There are benches by the fountain, so we wind our way between the self-absorbed shoppers, teenagers brashly begging for attention, harassed mothers on mobiles and bored husbands pushing buggies, bellies hanging over cheap jeans.

I spot an empty seat and make a beeline before anyone else can get it, but Jess stalls, pulling back.
She has seen Paul is waiting, watching our approach. In eight years he has been late for absolutely everything; why – today of all days – is he early, just when I need a few minutes grace to talk to Jess?

‘Hello.’ he shifts uncomfortably.

‘I packed spare pyjamas and some Calpol; she’s a bit out of sorts today.’ I drop the bag at his feet. Jess clings to my hand, looking at the floor.

‘She told you?’ he nods towards Jess, uncharacteristically awkward.

‘About what? Your new girlfriend?’

He winces. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘You could have warned me.’

He shrugs.

‘Great. Bloody great.’

‘Look, let’s go to the slide, shall we? He indicates Jess again, his eyes imploring: Let’s not fight in front of her. Our mantra for the failing months of our marriage.

‘Okay.’

Jess perks up at the suggestion and eagerly leads us to the little indoor play area crowded with other people’s snotty brats. ‘Monkey wants to climb with me,’ she tells me, struggling with the zip of her bag. I help her extract him and she scampers off with the pink goblin flopping under her arm.
‘She really wanted him.’ Paul sounds almost apologetic.

‘Yeah?’

He is looking at his shoes. Scuffed brown suede, once expensive; I can remember buying them with him.

‘How could you say she’d spoilt things?’ Anger makes my voice shaky. ‘She didn’t want to come today; she’s so upset.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll make it up, somehow.’

‘But how could you say that!’

‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Well, it’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.’

‘Look, I’d barely got to know her.’ He must mean Snow White. ‘And Jess was coming to visit. So I invited Zoë over and she had to go and mention the fair.’

How romantic.

‘So of course, then Jess wanted to go, but Zoë doesn’t like fairs; she’d only mentioned it because it annoyed her.’

Silly moo: obviously not used to dealing with five-year-olds. ‘Why’d she go then?’

He shrugs again. ‘She’d made a big thing about wanting to meet Jess.’

‘And?’

‘So she got bored while we went on the dodgems, felt sick on the big wheel and complained when Jess had candyfloss and it got on her new coat.’

Well done Jess! But I curb my delight and make do with sarcasm. ‘Poor thing.’

‘Don’t laugh.’

‘Sorry,’ I lie.

‘The final straw was that monkey.’

‘Monkey?’

‘Those bloody coconuts were almost impossible to shift.’ He shudders. ‘And Jess got candyfloss in Zoë’s hair.’

‘And?’

‘And she got mad and stormed off.’

‘How could you blame Jess?’

He squirms uncomfortably.

‘Mummy!’ Jess bounces off the slide, triumphantly brandishing Monkey above her head. ‘Did you see Monkey go down the slide?’

‘Yes, love.’ I lie on autopilot.

‘He can do the monkey bars, too.’
‘Of course he can.’

‘So can I.’

‘Be careful, love.’

‘I are, Mummy,’ Jess says, turning back to the play area dismissively. Then she has second thoughts. ‘Mummy, hold Monkey for me.’

I catch the flying gargoyle as she hurls him at me and I hold him up and kiss him on his button nose. Paul’s mouth makes a moue of disgust as I zip Monkey back into Jess’s bag, carefully leaving his head out so he can see and be seen. ‘Well, you’re going to have your work cut out being nice to your daughter this weekend.’

‘Yeah’ He slumps dejectedly, staring at Monkey, mesmerised.

‘I’m sorry, but I have to go in a minute.’ I dig my car keys out of my pocket, check my mobile.
‘Huh?’ He barely glances at me. I wave to Jess and beckon to her.

‘I’ll have to go: I’ve got a date tonight.’

‘A what?’ He looks up with a start.

‘A date. He’s called Richard.’

It would be nice to stay and see how long it takes Paul to recover, but risky.

Jess hurtles into my arms. ‘Don’t go, Mummy!’

‘I’ll be back on Sunday, love; promise.’

‘Mummy –’

‘Bye, darling.’

‘Mummy –’

‘Daddy has some lovely things planned for the weekend; I really have to go now – he’ll tell you all about them.’

‘Mummy –’

‘Bye, sweetheart.’ I give her a big kiss. ‘See you soon; Monkey will look after you.’

Paul is still speechless.

‘Daddy, what are we going to do?’ Jess is asking as I turn away. ‘Daddy –’

‘Who is Richard?’ Paul asks plaintively. ‘You don’t know anyone called Richard.’

‘There were three in my year at school.’

‘I never knew them.’

‘This is a different Richard,’ I explain. Very different, seeing as he doesn’t actually exist.

I turn to go, hiding my smile; I’ve just realised that if there were three Richards in my class at school, there must be a fair few more in the world at large right now.

But do I want any of them?

Catching my eye from his safe nest in Jess’s bag, Monkey winks wickedly at me through his candyfloss-pink fur.

 gavin_effects_1b.jpg ( 38.47K ) Number of downloads: 2


<!--EDIT|Cleo_Serapis
Reason for Edit: None given|1111260933 -->

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi

A very warm welcome to MM, Toumai.    

I hope you'll be happy here.

I have to go out in a min but I'll be back later today to take a monkey's at this.

In the meantime Good Luck and see you later.

James.

[Guest_Cailean_*]

This is a very well written piece. It's a great conversational style - you've got a definite talent for inner monologue. As someone that does a lot of that myself, I can definitely appreciate it in others :)

It starts out in a rather arresting monkey with something very visible. This is good. You want to basically throw monkeys at people to get their attention right at the outset. The piece being called "Monkey" also, indicates that it's not just some random detail - the monkey means something. The thing is, because it's tossed at us almost hooting and gibbering, we want to know, "why is it significant?"

I like this. Your story doesn't use a gimmick to get our attention, you use a fairly normal object (actually, said stuffed amusement park monkey is pretty much anthromorphed into an actual personality!) and you use normal, well realized people to illustrate your points. I feel that the monkey is almost a companion, or perhaps a vehicle, to move the narrator and story along.

I particularly enjoyed the dry wit here:

‘He can do the monkey bars, too.’

‘Of course he can.’

(coz he's a ... monkey! Haha!)

The sardonic tone of the narrator's thoughts is interesting (and amusing) while also gains sympathy - whether we should feel this, from an outside, absolute perspective is another story, but hey, who ever said writing was meant to be objective? I find most creative works are wholly subjective and that makes them resonate with our own personal essence.

Welcome to MM, and welcome to Stonehenge. Please, post some more! I like your style. Feel free to have a browse around and make a few comments on other pieces also - we appreciate honest, good-natured critique here.

May your life get a little better every day. Blessed be.

Cailean.

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Thank you very much for the welcome, James.

Thanks you for your kind comments, Cailean.
I don't think the narator is a particularly nice person, but I certainly enjoyed writing her. It started out as an excercise in changing a viewpoint for a creative writing class, and I was pleased it worked reasonably well.
I shall look forward to reading everyone else's writing now.

Toumai

[Ephiny]

Hello and welcome  :wave:

I really enjoyed your story..as Cailean said, the dry humour and wit is most enjoyable and very well timed throughout the conversations and thoughts of the narrator.  You really let the reader get into the minds of the characters, especially the main character.  And the monkey was a fantastic detail..I could just "see" him!  And the fact that what he represented to the main character did a complete shift towards the end..he was no longer a symbol of the happy day she was excluded from, but something that had totally gotten in the way of the budding relationship that annoyed her so much.  Very clever!!!

Your descriptions of the young child and her own feelings were excellent as well.

Really enjoyed this :)

[Cleo_Serapis]

WELCOME TO THE MOSAIC Toumai!

This looks to be a fun read based on our friends who've already been in here!  

As you'll come to find, I take a LONG time to respond to stories (it's just a time management thing for me), however, I DO try to respond to most pieces.

I will be back again - I will print this one out and have a read soon.

Welcome again!
~Cleo    :

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Hi Epiphiny,

Thanks for the kind comments. Monkey had already been picked over in class, so most of the bugs are out (monkeys pick their own nits, too    ).

This seems to be a very friendly site, as promised.



Hi Cleo,

Thank you for your welcome. I'm beginning to find my way around and enjoy the site.

I'll look forward to more visits.

Toumai

[Guest_Jox_*]

Hi

This is excellent, Toumai. (And I don't say that unless I mean it).

I really enjoyed the table-turning piece with the daughter as pawn and the monkey as co-conspirator. "Monkey" has so many meanings - cheeky, you little, around and so on - I think you touched on them all, in various subtle ways.

I did guess (when you mentioned) Richard that he didn't exist - from the woman's previous encounter with her daughter. However, I did not anticipate the final twist; that the ego-sustaining deception actually sparked the possibility of a better future; one where victim becomes re-empowered.

The monkey throughout acted as an excellent fifth person (as Cailean indicated). In fact, he was really the fourth as Zoe was always off-stage. I became lost whilst trying to sort out the metaphorical implications of the monkey; they were many and all well done - there may be more than I spotted. The daughter, for example, tossing Monkey back to her Mum - very much like Dad had tossed his daughter back to Mum when he had become bored with her.

Your narrator's voice is brilliant - very realistic and gains our sympathy well - perhaps because of her imperfections as much as her care for her daughter. The husband is realistic, too. Not a "boo, hiss" bad guy but a proper person who is not that bad but did compromise on his daughter - though he does seem to regret it.

I could go on but I'll shut up. I have no suggestions for improvement. Wish I had but I don't have. It's early days yet but this is definitely the best thing of yours I've read and is excellent. Thoroughly enjoyed it. I think you have hit one of your natural ways of writing; and it is very smooth writing indeed.

James.

[Guest_Toumai_*]

 Thank you for those very kind comments, James.

I don't usually set out to put extra meanings into a story, but they certainly sneaked in here, including a couple of dubious ones (shortened version of Richard, for one).
It was actually a pig to write!!! But I got the first part (to the break) and it was too interesting to waste - I wanted to know what happened.  

Glad you enjoyed it.

Toumai

[Guest_Jox_*]

Toumai,

Of course, being a bloke I didn't catch on to the reduced Richard - and given Monkey's mangy pink nylon coat and cross-eyed expression, I think I'll forget that one asap. Nevertheless, yet another good metaphor - I knew I'd missed some (thank goodness!) :) And kitchen floors will never seem the same again! (I had wondered about that, but not dared put two and two together).

Brilliant stuff.

James.

[Guest_Toumai_*]

ROTFL!

What a dreadful mind you have! Almost as bad as mine.  :D
Oh well, there goes my reputation. And I only joined the site today...

Cheers,

Toumai

[Cybele]

Hello Toumai,  

WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME]

James had told me that we had another Brit on the site.     so I thought I would pop over to this forum to have a squizz!!

It was actually a pig to write!!! But I got the first part (to the break) and it was too interesting to waste - I wanted to know what happened

.

Well, you weren't the only one ~ you kept me reading avidly to the end.  I am no expert at prose work Toumai,but for me this flowed very smoothly from beginning to end .

I should be there, too, offering this Zoë a secret taste of my own special toffee apple. The wicked witch. Yep, that’s me. If I get some poison into her she’ll be asleep for ever; Paul will never pass muster as Prince Charming – or any kind of hero.

Ah! The devious mind of a woman scorned. Delicious!

If this was a pig to write, then it was certainly worth the effort. Thank you for the absorbing read.  

Love

Grace (Cybele)

[Guest__*]

Dear Toumai,

Well, I met Jox and Grace for linch yesterday, and your existenc on MM was raised, so out of duty I came to have a look.

Out of much more than duty I read breathlessly right though your story, a tiny bit irritated by having to scroll several times, as that got in the way !

Brilliant !

The whole thing is totally natural, realistic, and "accurate" - not a word, thought or action are jarring or unlikely, you've got all your characters very believable.

Having been in the situation of chasing a "Zoe", I do think your man hd a very lucky escape, she sounds so self-centered and unable to have "competition" from even a small child. Good riddance.

As for your double entendre on Richard's name, hmmm .... we NEED more dirty minds on MM, I was getting lonely !

Love
Alan

[Guest_Jox_*]

Well, knock me down with a ten-ton mallet... Alan's second visit to prose within a week! We're honoured - and I'd only just rolled-up the red carpet.

His complaining about excessive scrolling is the stuff of poets - they write so little that the mouse is not what their right arm's for. (America: There's a British beer joke in there. Not funny, of course, because it's a British beer joke. keep up! )

Talking of British beer (Real or Ginger! ) - we had an excellent linch.

Toumai - feel honoured, we may not see Alan passing this way again for a long time. I shall simply present him with Monty Python's Holy Hand Grenade and tell him to use it wisely - it's what on'e left hand is for!.

James.

[Guest__*]

Dear Jox,

I have decided to go back to the original name by which I knew you, as the multiplath of existential possibilities leaves me spinning.

"we had an excellent linch." - Did one of us not return from the lunch ? Where is our Grace ? Does one not usually spell it "lynch" ?

Thanks for the tip on young Toumai, this really was worth the ride !

Love
Alan

[Guest_Jox_*]

Alan, my dear chap... "linch" was your doing (see your original posting, above), not mine; for I was stone-cold drunk.

Grace has been here already... I think Stonehenge must have sapped your powers for today - I'm sure you'll be better tomorrow; hope so.

Glad you liked the piece.

J.

[Guest_Pandora_*]

Hi Toumai!
Welcome to the Mosaic! Your first post is a huge hit! I like your conversational writing style (and not just because it is very close to my own!  :dance: ) I also enjoy the realistic slice of life stuff. Oddly enough, there were many more than three "Richards" in my class in school. Actually, one could hardly count the number!  :blush21: I enjoyed the description of that horrid monkey.  A few of those beastly things lurk in the back of my son's closet. Uggg! Well, keep up the good work! This one was clean of nits from my view!

Laura

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Hello Grace and Alan,

Thank you.

I feel I should be feeding everyone Earl Grey tea and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts removed to sustain you through the scrolling and discussion process (or a few pints of good beer?).  

I am very honoured to meet some more MM poets, and for your very positive welcome; I shall have to pay a return visit to the poetry section soon. I am a little nervous of that; had a bad dose of poetry recently and was rather hoping to recover (how I came to meet James in fact; he reviewed a piece elsewhere) :D  however I am told it is incurable and I need to learn to live with it. It certainly seems to flare up quite alarmingly and with no warning. A few hours in a dark room with a computer and lots of coffee deal with each manifestation - at least to date.

Dread to think what Jox could have said about me at the lunch - some of the threads (topics) on GW can get very silly. Even more unnerving: Grace, I would guess you might actually have come accross my father and step-mother; both involved in U3A in Somerset and Dad writes poetry. A small world.

More tea anyone?

Toumai

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Hi Laura,

Gosh, I missed your post at first because it was on a new page. Delighted to meet you. Would you like a cucumber sandwich? (Sorry, getting carried away there :)  might be a bit mouldy by the time it gets to you in the States).

Monkey is indeed based on a real toy - well, two, actually: a cuddly brown monekey called Gavin that I adore and a hideous pink rabbit that my daughter (then 5) insisted on aquiring at the school rumage sale.

I shall have to come and have a look at some of your stories, too. This is fun! (But terribly distracting :D  )

See you soon,

Toumai

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hello Toumai and an official WECOME TO THE MOSAIC!

I've tried not to read the other's comments as I don't like to be swayed when offering crit...  :detective:

You ease into your characters voices well and carry the theme strongly here in this debut on MM. My nits below are mostly just word suggestions, omissions etc..  for you to take or toss as you wish. What interests me as the reader is the way you've given each of the five characters equal timing (including 'Monkey'). I am looking for more - as in another story that continues this slice of life - I find myself asking, "What next?" and want to know more about the characters.

This is a great piece - you've got the flair down ofr the short story!  :pharoah2

Cheers!
~Cleo  :cloud9:



‘We went on the bumper cars and the big wheel and the bumper cars again and I had a hot dog and candyfloss –’

‘Yes love.’ I stroke her hair, lower myself and squat sit on the kitchen floor so I’m on her level, ignoring the sticky patch my hand lands in, ‘Who is Zoë?’

More thinking. Another shake of the head. ‘She’s very pretty. Like Snow White.’
Oh Boy! THIS is a clincher as the reader can surmise what is next (like in real life - easy to relate to the coming thoughts)...

I should be there, too, offering this Zoë a secret taste of my own special toffee apple. The wicked witch. Yep, that’s me. If I get some poison into her she’ll be asleep for ever forever; Paul will never pass muster as Prince Charming – or any kind of hero.

Catching my eye from his safe nest in Jess’s bag, Monkey winks wickedly at me through his candyfloss-pink fur.
GREAT ENDING!!!!!