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©The Short Tale of the Impecunious Sock monkeys

(copyright 2008)


††††††††††† When I was about nine years old, my five year old brother had a sock monkey. You know, those stupid looking things that look like monkeys made out of socks? One day I was beating him over the head with it, when a loose seam came apart and inside I found money. While my brother was running to tell on me for hitting him, I took the wad of one dollar bills out and stuffed them in my pocket. I donít know how much money there was, but to a kid, a wad of any money is a lot.

††††††††††† Then the thought hit me. Maybe thatís what they stuff sock monkeys with. I had lots of friends with little brothers and sisters who had sock monkeys. I didnít want my brother to find out, so I didnít tear his monkey up. However, I proceeded to go around the neighborhood to visit all my friends who had sock monkeys in their households. None of the sock monkeys had money in them.

There were these strange conversations filtering through the neighborhood over the next few weeks about sock monkey mutilations. There was talk of aliens, but I kept my opinion to myself.

††††††††††† When I got home that night I found out the sock monkey was where my daddy hid his drinking money from my mother. He beat me until sock monkeys came out of my butt. I donít know why he was so mad. He made me give the money back. Oh, I remember. My mother made me give the money to her. Maybe thatís why he beat me.


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