“There was this huge monkey, I tell you, HUGE,” said the old man. His rough unshaven face, the bit of spittle leaking down the left side of his mouth, the crust in the corners of his eyes all spoke of age and hardship.
The young man was busy writing. He glanced up at the old man as if giving him permission to continue.
“The monkey was in the back of the trailer. It had a shit-eatin’ grin on its face and a shovel in its hand,” the man continued, balling up his right fist as if demonstrating how the monkey held the shovel.
The young man continued to write.
“I was feared it was goin’ to grab the cash. Y’know, the cash was just sittin’ right out there by the birthday cake,” said the man, pointing to an imaginary table with a cake and cash.
The young man put his pen down and looked at the older man. “Mr. Smith,” he started to say, but the old man interrupted him.
“That damn monkey was gonna carry away MY birthday cash, MY birthday cake!” he shouted. “It was TOO MUCH!”
He tried to get out of his chair, but the restraining belt held him in place. He struggled, his hands gripping and pressing against the arm of the chair.
His exertions were loud and drew attention from the others in the room. They had all been mildly watching the morning news on the communal television, and he was now far more interesting than that.
“Mr. Smith,” the young man said again, “it’s time for your meds.” He took out a hypodermic needle and called over his shoulder, “Nurse, I might need a little help today.”
This is my response to the Monday Wordle where we are invited to use a specific list of words in prose or poetry.
Today’s list: cash, huge, monkey, much, grin, shovel, birthday, carry, took, back, trailer, grab
I read the list. I saw the story. I wrote it down.
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 