Tagged: monkey

Fleur’s next question was easy, but that’s the name of the game with Contrarian tribal customs. The women always get the easy questions, but few men have escaped unscathed from these mating rites. Fleur once told me about a splinter faction of young tribesmen who rejected all of the formal questioning and ceremonial garb. They hide behind trees and waylay anyone who looks like they are planning to get married to try to talk them out of it.

My thoughts were interrupted by Fleur’s father. He posed my final question of this round, an easy one I had no trouble answering correctly. The warlord must be anxious to move on. I wondered what he had planned.

“This is the Contrarian Year of the Monkey,” he announced. “That means it is time for you lovebirds to argue about the size of each other’s genitals. Do so loudly please, so that everyone can hear.” He exited through the tent flap with his bodyguards, leaving me alone with Fleur and her devilish grin.

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April 18, 2016

Once He Was Barefoot

and then await instructions
crowned by telephone wires
“Sure you gonna go home, Johnny! I know you are.”
doctors weren’t able to analyze the semen samples
and tell them to be punctual

Tune in next time part 68 Click Here for Earlier Installments

Once he was barefoot, the enigmatic stranger fished a sheet of paper out of his right moccasin and handed it to me. It was damp with foot-sweat. From the left he fished another note, which he tucked between Svetlana’s lips, making her wrinkle her nose.

“Go to these coordinates once you’ve decoded them, and then await instructions,” the man said as he slipped his feet back into their buckskin sheaths. While he was doubled over I noticed that his head was crowned by telephone wires and the feathers I spotted earlier were actually live birds tethered there.

“I’d rather go home than to your mysterious coordinates, dude,” I said.

“Sure you gonna go home, Johnny! I know you are.” His tone was mocking.

Why did he think I was John? Was it because I was in the company of Svetlana? She was trying to spit the notepaper out of her mouth, presumably to tell this man I was not her brother, but the paper stuck to her lips and tongue, and everything she said was muffled into indistinguishability.

“Things are heating up,” the man said, straightening, and ignoring Svetlana’s sputterings. “Our doctors weren’t able to analyze the semen samples because they were all contaminated with monkey semen.” He smiled briefly. “The samples were contaminated, not the doctors. Anyway, we need to collect fresh samples from everyone, so go to those coordinates, call your team, and tell them to be punctual. We can’t afford another screw-up.” He shook my hand, gave Svetlana a nod, and sprinted down the alley to a waiting limousine.

Svetlana finally spat her paper gag onto the ground and yelled, “This isn’t John!” at the receding black car.

I scooped up her soggy note and stuck it in my pocket along with my own.

“Now, what’s all this about semen?” I asked.

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May 6, 2015

Frank Asked For a Moment

straddled the embalmed cadaver
borne upon the arms of demons
gymnastics for the monkeys
he buckled, confessing all
turned toward the Plexiglas window

Frank asked for a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he drew a deep breath and began speaking as he picked up his sword belt, which he buckled, confessing all that we had heard was true. He explained why he’d straddled the embalmed cadaver, that such contact with the remains was his only means of learning the killer’s identity. How his consciousness was borne upon the arms of demons to the nether realm to converse with the deceased’s spirit. That, knowing we wouldn’t understand his methods, he first arranged for us to attend an exposition of gymnastics for the monkeys that roamed the parking lots at night, hoping it would distract us long enough for him to complete the mission and return. But the monkeys hadn’t held our interest, and we returned too early, which is how we came to watch nonplussed as Frank turned toward the Plexiglas window and said, “I can explain.”

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March 13, 2015

Knowing Which Wrench to Use

Last week we introduced you to the goose wrench. Now it’s time to mention the other handy wrench you should keep, er, handy: the monkey wrench. Although the term is often negative, it’s an indispensable implement for creative problem-solving.

Here’s the TL;DR: if a writer has too many problems, it’s usually because the characters don’t have enough.

The monkey wrench is versatile. It can be applied delicately, to unravel things just a little bit. Or it can be wielded like a club, or tossed into the gears. But remember to show moderation in all things, especially excess. Unlike the goose wrench, it’s not your own process that the monkey wrench should be swung at. It’s your characters’. You’re not trying to seize up the plot, so pay some attention to which sets of gears you’re aiming for. Story thrives on conflict. When things for your cast are going a little too smoothly, when your protagonist becomes complacent or settles into a rut, that’s the time to break out the monkey wrench.

Keep both wrenches available. Story structure is too loosey-goosey? Grab that goose wrench. When things go flat, reach for the monkey wrench. Just make sure they’re clearly labeled, because using the wrong one will only make a writer’s problems worse.

May 5, 2014

Devlin du Mauvais Knew Himself to be a Very Attractive Man

perhaps a bit long and square-jawed
unable to cause his larynx to make sound
something as mundane as a monkey reflex
through his half-open shirtfront
“Welcome, gentlemen, to Sugarloaf Mountain.”
next thing you’ll be hearing church bells
with their passionate tornadoes of paper

Devlin du Mauvais knew himself to be a very attractive man, even if his hair was perhaps a bit long. And square-jawed masculinity never went out of style, he knew, but it did nothing to explain his skill as a black magician.

Devin’s sister Minerva grasped the throat of the dead man on the table, but no matter how hard she squeezed, she was unable to cause his larynx to make sound.

“Why does this carcass defy me!?” she demanded. “He should at least possess something as mundane as a monkey reflex, not just lay there inertly.”

“Sister, dear, calm down, or the next thing you’ll be hearing church bells ringing through your nerves and the men in white, with their passionate tornadoes of paperwork, will take you away again.”

Minerva took a deep breath, then she smiled seductively and tweaked Devlin’s nipple through his half-open shirtfront.

As they kissed, she ran her hand down to his erection and cooed, “Welcome, gentlemen, to Sugarloaf Mountain.”

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April 14, 2014

The Fee For Government Burial

as smoking tears poured from his eyes
my mother was alive then
one extraterrestrial humanoid
furtive-faced little man in an oversize raincoat
The fee for government burial is ten dollars
with cars, refrigerators, a castle in Scotland

“The fee for government burial is ten dollars,” said the furtive-faced little man in an oversize raincoat as smoking tears poured from his eyes and he exposed himself.

“Let me give you some advice,” Carlo said, “one extraterrestrial humanoid to another. Keep that thing covered or the earthmen will know that you’re not just an eccentric rich man with cars, refrigerators, a castle in Scotland, and all the rest.”

“Sorry,” said the furtive-faced little man. “In my grief I forget myself.”

“Surely you can afford the ten dollar fee,” said Carlo.

“I used to wealthy, years ago,” said the man, “but my mother was alive then. When she died, our money was cremated along with her body. And now I cannot even afford the government fee to bury my monkey.”

Feeling sympathy, Carlo slipped the man a tenner.

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September 11, 2013

Transformation Into a Wolf

Hi. Hello. Hello? Heh-lo.
– Stark naked!
grew owl’s wings and talons
congenital anonymity
muddy boots took up a lot of room

Transformation into a wolf is actually a highly unusual form of lycanthropy. I’ve known only two werewolves, but at least eight people who grew owl’s wings and talons at the new moon. Dozens of weremonkeys, too. But best not to dwell on them.

These unfortunates almost always learn of their plight at dawn, when they awaken in some unfamiliar outdoor locale – Stark naked!

I met Marie on a rooftop that way. She was still groggy, sated with innocent flesh, and slow to wake up.

“Hi. Hello. Hello? Heh-lo.”

At last she discovered her nudity and woke with a gasp. I gallantly offered my coat, and took her downstairs to my condo. We first made love in the hall closet, where muddy boots took up a lot of room. Then we moved on to the kitchen, and finally the bed.

Marie doesn’t remember me. My curse is different from hers. Rather than agonizing metamorphosis into a mindless beast, I suffer from congenital anonymity.

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November 9, 2012

Instant Writing Prompts!

Back in the day, we had to pull slips of actual paper out of actual envelopes, like animals.

But now, a Four Elements writing prompt can be yours for the low-low price of just clicking your mouse! That’s right, we threatened to withhold the thing they hold most dear*, and the webcode monkeys shrieked in dismay for a minute or two before cranking out a fully automated, 21st-century, totally paperless version of our musty envelope-based system.

Take it for a spin! We’ve always found these prompts are a great way to get warmed up before doing “real” writing, not to mention fertile soil for our favorite brand of sophomoric humor. We encourage you to use the comments to share what you come up with. (Be sure to include the elements list the generator gave you!)

*Mountain Dew