The Malboro Monkey by Jamal

8 07 2009

*Had to post this poem written by our boy, Mal, because it’s better than everything any of us has ever read*

I first saw him in magazine ads:
chiseled face + handlebar mustache + a thousand yard stare=badass.
Often, two smiling, beautiful people would be to his side,
connected to his coolness, validated by his sophistication.
I couldn’t wait to have one.

An adjustment period comes with having a pet-
sacrifices must be made.
People say things like, “I never figured him for a monkey person…”
and you become part of the pet owner’s subculture.
He stinks up the house a bit, but I never have to lay down newspaper.
Like I said, sacrifices must be made.

We soon develop a symbiotic relationship:
When I wake up, he is next to me…
I pick him up after every meal…
I take him for walks on my break from work…
Ozzie & Harriet…
Michael & Bubbles…
Frankie Beverly & Maze-
“We are One”.

Anyhow, eleven years pass and he gets huge.
It becomes harder to carry him the less I think of it.
He develops a penchant for climbing skyscrapers,
a proclivity towards abducting white women,
but he is always there for me.

I wouldn’t call him high maintenance
but caring for a silver-back gorilla can be expensive.
Nonetheless, he is well-fed;
the money I spend is Chiquita.
I kiss his butt, sure…everyone that knows him does.

I am going to get rid of him
and it will break my heart…
we’ve been through a lot together.
You can’t take a gorilla to the pound
and they won’t read Dear John letters,
but something must be done.
If I don’t kill him
sooner or later, he will kill me…
he is a wild animal after all.

No pet should be as dangerous as its owner.




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