Monkey's First Christmas

Since Christmas is nearly upon us, I thought I might tell my Christmas monkey story again. I was lucky enough as a kid to have a number of monkeys as pets, some nice, some not so much. They were cute, but could be quite naughty, and did have some bad habits. But they ere also fascinating little creatures. One of them I pay homage to in my paranormal horror series The Chloe Files, with Bob, the 600-year-old capuchin.

Anyway, Twas the night before Christmas, late ‘60s, and all through the house…not a creature was stirring…

Except for the monkey.

Sometimes pets and Christmas trees just don’t mix. I had a beagle who somehow thought ornaments constituted a new food group. That was good for four or five days of sparkly poop.

But monkeys and trees…

His name was Porky and he was a red macaque. One of those stubby monkeys with virtually no tail and a little red ass that made him look like he’d spent a bit too much time at the local House of Pain. He had a bit of an attitude when it came to the Christmas tree. Whenever he was out of his cage, he gave it the evil monkey eye. I can’t imagine what was going through his simian mind when he stared at that multi-colored, glowing glittering faux fir, and you just knew Santa had a poop fling with his name on it.

Porky managed to figure a way out of his cage one not-so-funny Christmas Eve. Did you know monkeys like to fling Christmas balls? We lost two lamps that way.

That loud crash? Well, that wasn’t Jolly Old St. Nick coming down the chimney. Something came down, all right. With a loud boom and a shrill monkey screech.

We got up to find faux fir D-O-A in the middle of the living room, along with the two deceased lamps. Christmas balls—the ones that survived—had to be dug out of various places—behind the couch, chairs. Tinsel was strewn everywhere, including wrapped about the monkey like a shiny new silver coat. The Christmas Angel tree topper? We still miss her...

And Porky himself? Porky was hanging from one of those ceiling lamps that had the chain-encompassed cord running down the wall. The look on his face was one of fear mixed with a weird monkey satisfaction. I think he was pretty happy he’d finally given that fake tree its just desserts.

Well, at least he hadn’t eaten any tinsel, so flying silver poop or hurled foil vomit wasn’t a problem…


Will you believe?
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THE CHLOE FILES #1: Ashes to Ashes by Howard Hopkins
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