Spank the Monkey

Yeah, I get it that that’s more commonly used as a euphemism (an euphemism?) for, shall we say, something different than visiting corporal punishment on a simian. However, it is the second aspect of spanking a monkey, or in this case, two monkeys that comes to mind, though the double entendre was fun, and maybe aroused (heh) interest. Here’s the story.

I got back from the dentist as detailed in my last post, and after writing it up, decided I was a hungry hippo. And, after seeing the somewhat disappointing though not surprising number displayed after stepping on a scale in the dentist’s office, also decided I needed to eat sooner and later. Continuing with my string of most excellent decisions, I also decided to chow some protein. I’d heard good things about ACK fried chicken, and — you guessed it — decided to go there. There are several fried chicken chains in Indo. KFC, ACK, JFC are three of them that immediately come to mind. Of the three, I’d been advised by Garland that the best by far was ACK. So, off I toddle.

There’s an ACK shop a kilometer away, and I splurge for three legs at 10K IDR apiece (about $2.35 total). I got it to go, and toddle back, as I wanted to eat while reading in the comfort of my room, rather the heat of a sunny table next to a busy roadway. One of the bonuses of reading on a Kindle: page turns are possible with the clean backside knuckle of an otherwise greasy or BBQ saucy hand.

I get back to my stay, and climb the stairs to the third floor. I notice that the cleaning supplies are out, so the housekeeping staff (ok, it’s the same staff for cooking, front desk, pool and housekeeping) are working in my room.

I noticed the doors were open. That’s not common. But what was even more uncommon was the monkey sitting in the doorway. Huh.

I eyeball her (I think it’s a female) and I hear the staff yelling inside. I figured I’d better not be between the monkey and its egress, so I circle carefully around to where I have a couch and small table on the other side of the door.

The monkey doesn’t like this. She bares her teeth, and opens her mouth and takes a few steps toward me.

I’m thinking, “She wants my chicken. She can’t have my chicken. I’m hungry!” while stepping a bit further away. I pick up the rattan table to, I don’t know, use it like a lion tamer uses a chair? I just wanted something to put between me and the fucking pissed off monkey.

Meanwhile, inside, the staff are continuing to yell. I, of course, not knowing the language, have no clue what’s happening. I’m not taking my eyes off my immediate opponent, lest she charge and toss me off the balcony, or take my chicken, or bite me.

I get to a position where I’ve allowed her egress and have my trusty table-weapon. She crouches down. And takes a shit.

She then reaches back to pick it up to hurl it at me. Great flingin’ feces, batman! But, before she does, another fucking monkey comes out of my room. This one is a big-ass male. He calmly walks past, his huge cojones swinging as he saunters away. The female drops the shit on the floor and follows him down the stairway.

Given all the incidents of monkeys stealing stuff from tourists in the Monkey Forest (about a kilometer away), I’m so effing glad these two didn’t take it upon themselves to take my stuff from my room. I mean, I had my drugs, my plugs, clothes, battery, back scratcher, computer, and, well, everything all just sitting around, ripe for the taking. (Except my watch and phone, Kindle and cash. These are known as The Four Horsemen of Never Leave Without, which I obviously had with me.)

I did see my trash upended on the floor though. I guess the naughty boy was more interested in used tissue (ick) and coffee grounds than my other, shiny, objects.

Still, bad monkey. Very bad monkey. A monkey in need of spanking. Corporal punishment on a simian, not the other kind. The other is your call. I don’t judge.

---