A Monkey Bite

October 23, 2010
By Senou Lynn BRONZE, Brattleboro, Vermont
Senou Lynn BRONZE, Brattleboro, Vermont
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I got bit by a monkey. How many times have you heard that sentence been used? How many times has anyone said that and actually be truthful about it? Well I have. It was quite terrifying.

It was a super hot day and my mom decided to take me and my best friend out to pizza at the local pizza place. It was cheap and as you neared, the clink of glass cups and the smell of fresh pizza wafted out. It was bustling with activity and it took us a while to find a seat. “Follow me this way” said a heavily accented African teenager. We passed many tables on our way to a table near the back. One table was packed with children, presents and pieces of birthday cake strewn across the plaid plastic table cloth. Another one was a couple, conversing casually. Yet another table was occupied by a lone old man, sipping from a straw protruding from a blue plastic cup. We hastily ordered two medium cheeses and sat. Pasi and I decided to head out to the playground in the back as my mother waited for our pizzas to arrive.

On the way out we passed the lone old man, the couple and the table over flowing with children. As we stepped outside, we both stopped in our tracks. A gold colored monkey sat grooming itself. Its shiny coat was perfect except for the visible corrosion of the skin around its neck where the collar was clearly too tight. We slowly took a cautiously put a step forward. The beautiful monkey snapped his head to the side and snarled at us; we had invaded his territory. His sharp teeth glinted in the sun as drool slowly slid down its chin and dripped onto the ground. Before we could react however, the monkey was jerked backwards as an employee violently tugged on its chain. The monkey was then prodded with sticks until it shyly backed away into its crate. The crate was a green metal mesh box that was about two feet wide and 4 feet high. Clearly the monkey didn’t belong in there; it was probably made for a bird. After the initial shock and terror of the monkey viciously snarling at us, we realized that it was just scared and insecure.

We decided to just head to the playground and ignore everyone’s eyes on our back. For 15 minutes we joyously played on the swings and jungle gym. Eventually I needed to go to the bathroom. On the way out, I made sure to avoid the monkey by a long shot and I quickly ran into the bathroom.

When I was done, I came out and heard my mother shout from across the room “Hey! Go get Pasi, the pizza is ready!” I’m not quite sure what I was thinking, maybe I was just so excited that our pizza was here but I totally spaced the monkey. I passed by his crate by only a couple feet and stood right next to the short, waist high wall separating the restaurant from the play ground. “PASI THE PIZZA IS READY!” I tried to shout but before the words came out, a big hairy force knocked me to the ground. A loud piercing scream escaped my mouth as I heroically fought the rabid monkey. A sharp pain shot through my left arm as the monkey’s teeth sunk into the skin of my fore arm. Next I felt a small jolt of electricity as a bulky pizza man tasered the monkey. It collapsed on top of me as I scrambled out from underneath it.

A crowd had gathered and stood in silence around me and the monkey. I should have been embarrassed of the tears streaming down my face and the snot slowly dribbling down my chin but I was too much in shock to do anything but lie in a ball crying. By then my mothers warm arms had encompassed me while she was busy yelling at the manager. The monkey had been shoved in its crate again. I felt a pang of sadness for it despite its attack on me.

The manager stood awestruck behind the glass wall that separated the ice cream from the consumers. He slowly walked around and put an arm around my mother’s shoulders. People still watching, he offered us as much ice cream as we wanted. By then my mother had calmed down quite a bit and had stopped yelling at the monkey and the manager. Without even considering what choice ice cream we wanted, he shoved two cones piled high with different kinds of ice cream. Too scared to object, I just ate it. Half way down, mixed white and brown liquid was dripping down my hand. The manager looking satisfied quickly went back to his normal activities, not so much as giving a second look anymore. He was probably just afraid of losing all the customers packed inside his restaurant.

We soon left and drove Pasi home. Clearly anxious, he quickly got out of the car; probably to tell his mother about the earlier events. The next few days were a rush. I would tell all my friends and teachers and show them the round mark where the monkey had torn off my skin. They would stare and point and laugh and we would just joke about it. Now it was just a hilarious thing that happened to me instead of the terrifying monkey attack that it previously was.

The author's comments:
True Story

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This article has 1 comment.

Ms. S-P said...
on Oct. 29 2010 at 1:09 pm
I like the line, "Too scared to object, I just ate it."  This captures the childlike confusion about an adult having been caught doing something questionable.


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