Love Thy Neighbor

I’ve always wanted a monkey, so I saved up and bought one a few weeks ago. A chimpanzee!


Was he expensive?


Sort of. But he was getting old, so the shop gave me a pretty good discount. Thirty percent off.


That sounds to me like it was a good deal.


Oh, it was, it was.


Congratulations, honey. Does he sleep with you? I’m just asking because my poodle sleeps with me.


No. Sadly, he does not. Reginald said it’s out of the question. “Ain’t no way am I gonna sleep with no monkey!” You know how he talks. I explained that, technically, Chip is an ape.


It’s important to call things by their proper names.


I wish Reggie would consent to letting Chip sleep with us. Just one night. Just to see how it feels. I think it’d be cozy. Our son went away to college last year, and I know it sounds weird but I really miss having a kid at home. It’s like Chip’s my child. Or grandchild. All these powerful maternal feelings are being re-awakened in me.


Be careful, girl. A chimpanzee will giggle and act cute and clownish one minute, and bite your face off the next. And then you’ll need a face transplant, and that’s super expensive. And even if the hospital manages to find a replacement face for you, it doesn’t mean it’ll be the kind of face you want. You’re still a very pretty lady. So imagine having to re-introduce yourself to your friends and family and coworkers wearing a new ugly face.


Good Lord. I hadn’t considered that. It’s almost too awful to think about.


And what if it’s a man’s face? Hmm?


I guess I’d have to learn how to shave, wouldn’t I?


That’s right, you would.


Okay. Well, instead of letting Chip stay in our bed, maybe we could put him in a crib at the foot of the bed.


There you go. Now you’re thinking with a clear head.


I’m so glad we’re neighbors. What would I do without you?


You would be faceless.


© Brett Davidson

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