Posts Tagged ‘Space Monkeys’

On Space Monkeys. Part Two.

February 17, 2010

Perhaps I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Space monkeys are so rarely found outside of this town these days that the non-resident may ask, “What is a space monkey?” A fine question. Space monkeys are – no surprise here – monkeys who have been used in space programs and, more commonly due to the lack of living primate space veterans, the descendents of monkeys who have been used in space programs. Not all of the monkeys that were flown into space survived, indeed most of them didn’t, but a few of those who did managed to breed afterward. The results were shocking. Space monkeys who had traveled in space, when they mated with regular earth monkeys, produced highly intelligent babies. Actually, when the first of these monkey babies were born, the doctors on duty thought that they were mal-formed. A hyper-intelligent space monkey for whatever reason is larger than a regular monkey but has only the strength of a fairly athletic human of about the same size. In addition to this, the doctors were quite concerned with the more common occurrence of sleep apnea in the new breed of space monkey descendents. This, they attribute to their ability to speak. This strange ability is made even stranger when you learn that they are usually proficient in several languages. It is unclear whether this is related more to an attempt by the monkey community to overcome “dumb monkey” stereotypes or more to an innate knack for language. There is certainly a lot we still don’t know about the science behind the origins of these strange creatures but unfortunately due to the strength of their civil liberties union all testing has long since ceased.

The handful of true space veterans in town live with their children as they lack the intelligence granted their offspring. It seems unusual until you realize that plenty of us humans live with similar arrangements. The children keep their parents in much the same way one would keep a pet, except the normal owner-pet bond is of an abnormally profound depth. If you’ve never had the chance to eat dinner with a second-generation space monkey and their parents you’ve missed out on a truly strange evening. I have had the weird pleasure of attending one of these dinners, and let me tell you, I have never once in my life before or since been as thoroughly uncomfortable as I was at that table. The evening began when the space monkeys let their parents out of their Kennel. It was a well stocked and generously sized kennel, of course, but when you’re keeping monkeys –even if they’re your parents – you’re gonna have to keep them in a cage some of the time. Space monkeys may lack taste and class, but they’re no slobs. They can’t have semi-domesticated monkeys tearing the place apart even if they are mom and dad. But for special occasions – holidays, dinner with guests and the like – the parents are let loose to mingle with the rest of the guests. I’ve heard of other parties, larger gatherings, where other space monkeys come over and bring their parents as well. Imagine if you will, a room with six or seven humanoid monkeys calmly discussing politics while twelve to fourteen wild monkeys destroy the place around them. I’ve never actually witnessed one of these evenings but my more curious half wants badly to see it once before the last of the original space monkeys die out.

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On Space Monkeys.

February 15, 2010
Do the Monkey.

I guess in general I can’t find much to really complain about.  Nothing especially interesting anyway.  Sometimes I’m a little hungrier then I’d like to be, sometimes a little lonelier but it all passes pretty quickly.  It’s just these goddamn space monkeys. I don’t know.  They get to me.  I try to be tolerant I really do.  I find myself getting upset and I remind myself that they’re monkeys.  They act like people and talk like people – except for that weird speech impediment they’ve all got – but they’re monkeys.  We’re not even the same species, we’re going to have some different viewpoints.  There’s just certain things that no matter how hard I try, they get right up under my skin.  I once made the mistake of moving in with a space monkey.  It must have been early summer the way the banana peels began to smell in the heat.  It’s a smell permanently trapped in my nose, one that makes its presence known at unpredictable intervals with uncontrollable intensity.  I’ll be eating dinner with a friend and all of a sudden all I can smell is rotten banana and dinner is over.  It’s really an unfortunate affliction.  Trying to sue a space monkey for emotional distress is seriously challenging.  The Space Monkey Civil Rights and Liberties Union (or SMCRLU) retains some of the best and most aggressive attorneys available and with the ambiguous nature of legal precedents involving space monkeys, it can be a real mess in a courtroom.

Now I mostly steer clear of the space monkeys as best I can but every once in a while there is the unavoidable encounter and I just get so frustrated.  I know I’m not supposed to feel that way, it’s wrong to dislike a space monkey for being a space monkey and I hate myself for it sometimes but Jesus Christ these fuckers get on my nerves.

It started on a Sunday, I remember.  I was sitting at a bar around noon having a brunch of Screwdrivers and Pabst blue ribbon beers when a crew of space monkeys walked in and started making a ruckus.  They were the rudest bunch of… I want to say people but sentients is the currently accepted PC term to describe both the human and monkey population.  In any case they were rude.  They screamed orders at the bartenders they were overly loud in a room that before their arrival had been semi-filled with quiet alcoholics nursing their drinks like medicine, they were mean and derisive towards everyone who even so much as tossed a look their way.  They felt invincible, above reproach.  They were taking advantage of the kindness that had been shown them by the community and abusing it badly and I told them so.  I was nearly booed out of the room, I was told to be more understanding and tolerant by drunks that didn’t like these monkeys anymore than I did.  They were just too afraid and guilty to say so.  I immediately began to see a problem.  Sometimes you have to draw a line in the sand and say, “a douche-bag is a douche-bag”, regardless or race, creed, color or species.