The One With The ShrewMonkey.
Ho Mon, is hot. I got sweat in my fur, Mon! In. My. Fur. Dass no' right.
Still, least I'not tirsty. 'Cos, Mon, when it's hot and you're tirsty...damn. Not a good day. Anyway, I'not tirsty. And so far, ain' no shrews in de crop, neider. So, yeah. Hot. But a good day.
I thinks: Right. Gonna chill in de shade and watch for shrews 'pproachin. So I climb uppa mango tree, Mon! Up dere wit'de mangoes! Hang dere by me hands and me feet and me tail. I looks down and think of the image we two muss look like! De blonde, beautiful farm-girrl and her trusty ShrewMonkey. Ain't no shrews getting pass me! I'ma show them shrews who de boss mon! Me! Hey farm-girrl? I thinks, Wanna mango? Nope? Mangos for me.
There! I seen it! A shrew! Coming for de crops!
Hell no, Shrew! I trow down my mango at it. Miss de ting! Climb down. Hands and feet and tail. Run over to farm-girrl! Come on, girrl, what you got? Oh yeah! Shrew, you stuck now! She gon brush you! Wit her broom! Oh Mon! Bye bye Shrew! Dat's right! You better run! You go back live in yo little shrew house made of a book!
Oh Mon! She donnit again! Farm-girrl! No! How many times? You don ruff a monkey's fur! Aa! No! None of this scratchin and scritchin behind me ears! I don't care how affectionate you tink you're being! You with dat big smile on your face! Who's a good ShrewMonkey, you say? I *know* dat! I *know*! I seen it coming, dat shrew!
Still...you are cute. For a humon.
Whassat noise? Mon, dat shrew come back! An dis time, he got other shrews wit him! And tiny monkeys. And a snake. Oh Mon! Why'da snake? I hate snakes! A shout my alarm.
Firm-girrl gonna need more don a broom, dis time. She gotta close de gate. I get de lock. Mon! Dis ting near as big as I am! But dere! ShrewMonkey let you down? Ho no!! Not me! Farm-girrl! Hey! Wake up, you! Start movin'! Push dis gate! Dat's better. Slow humon! I'do it, but it about ten time bigger dan me. Good work farm-girrl!
Mon! I can hear dem! Alla dem little shrews on odder side of de gate! Scribblin and Scrabblin. And dem little monkeys. What dey workin wit shrews for? Disgrace! But I can't see. But I climb up de gate! And den onto Hedvig de firm-girrl's shoulder. I can see dem shrews! All bored now! No crop for you! Ha! An up dere, lookin out on de valley and de sundown, I can feel de best ting I felt all day:
A cool breeze.
That was pretty cool, no? I'm a big fan of dreams where I get to be something other than me. It's like a holiday from your body. And your mind actually. For just a couple of hours you get to live with a changed attitude: No fear. Or lots of anger. Or a monkey accent. Whatever, Mon.
The next one was set in Ringwood, which, for those of you that haven't been there is a small town on the edge of the New Forest. And I was playing me again. Always a good plan: Being yourself in a dream. Makes them more than just entertainment, makes them
a model for reality. Let's you go, I wonder what I'd do in *this* situation.
So, yeah. What the hell was I talking about?
Oh yeah! Ringwood. I was walking along Ringwood high-street towards the slightly covered markety bit with my beautiful girlfriend, Nicki and my cousin William. We had decided not to take the cars to the market bit. The rest of the family would be following later. we walked along danced swung round lampposts. Generally, had a very good time. In fact such a good time, that one old lady commented that we must all be drunk. Cynical old wench.
We arrived at the shop, went inside and sat down. It was hard to find someone to sit the shop was so full. All of the members of my family were there, both sides. Eventually the staff managed to serve them and they left one by one, until I was the only person left.
All of staff disappeared to just one man was left, on the phone.he was discussing a new book with an author. Talking about chapters, editing, cover art.he held up a finger to need to indicate that he would be off the phone in one minute and I should wait. The bell above the door tinkled gently as another person came in and sat down, I didn't turn around soon was.
The man finished his call and turned to the person who had just come in. "Did you make the changes I recommended?", "I did" replied a soft, familiar voice. Which rang little alarm bells in the concious part of my brain: "You're dreaming about Alice? Again? WTF man? Have you no discipline?" and so on.
But it all turned out fine. I turned saw her, she didn't recognise me. I turned away, and got on with describing my book, Noodle Related Super Powers, to this publisher. I talked about how it was about 60000 words, detailed the dreams of a dreamer, was about losing love. Et cetera.
And I managed to do all of this coolly and calmly without standing up and pointing and shouting "It's all about how *that* screwed me over". Which I think was mighty impressive. And then I turned, left the shop, and walked in the sunlight with Nick.
Right, that's about it.
Later
1 comment:
Yes. I agree. This one is odd. In my defence, I think I had a fever.
I'd also like to point out that is not a bad Jamaican accent, that is just the accent of the thoughts in the monkey's brain.
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