Someone scrawled “Monkey for sale, $500” on a piece of torn notebook paper and it was posted up behind the cash register. It was in full view of anyone checking out. I can’t describe why, but I got irrationally excited. When I mentioned the sign to Willie, it was almost as if providence, fate, or some primate god intervened. No lie, the guy who authored the sign was still scuttling around the store and had just made his way up to the register. The snow’s pace outside increased to an aggressive flurry, sticking to the bushes and mulch beds in front of the store. My luck, and the landscape outside, seemed to be changing.
I struck up a conversation with the simian salesman. I tried to sound educated and mentioned that my mom had monkeys growing up, and that I’d always wanted one. Even though $500 was extremely cheap for what I assumed a monkey should cost, it could have been a million dollars to me. I was sixteen years old and made $5.50 an hour cleaning animal poop. I didn’t let on that I couldn’t raise that kind of money. He had to know that I was just a dumb kid. I kept talking and just let my curiosity inform the words that spilled out of my mouth. I think the guy just wanted to get out of the store, and maybe in an attempt to call my bluff said “do you wanna go see her?” I was elated. I asked my boss if I could punch in a little later since we were slow and thankfully he obliged...
What a great story Stan!
Thanks man!
Great story, and yes, I have had several "monkeys" on my back throughout life, though none as real as yours!
Enjoyed the read!!
Haha it’s sad that this isn’t even the only time I’ve done something that dumb.