The Monkey wants to know why they buried Richard III in a car park. He thinks it may be because he didn’t return his supermarket trolley but just left it in one of the bays, so they killed him and buried him there as a warning to others. Ah, drugs…
I watched The Monkey today launching himself on what can only be described as a homemade hang glider into the gale force winds that have been shrieking around us all day. With his little steel ‘Death from Above’ helmet strapped to his head and some swimming goggles he looked like the craziest Wright brother ever! Over and over again he threw himself into the maelstrom, sometimes getting smashed to the ground or into the bamboo growing by the shed, other times getting swirled away over several garden fences before, like Icarus, crashing to earth. Each time he would scramble back over the fences dragging the adapted power kite with him, make a few running repairs and then back onto the shed roof for another kamikaze flight. I didn’t notice for a while that my face was aching and when I did it took me a few moments to realise that it was because I was smiling so much. Watching The Monkey’s blissful intensity was amazing and suddenly made me aware of how much we miss when we don’t just do what gives us pleasure.
Took me a while to stitch up the gash on The Monkey’s shoulder, mainly because I had to shave the fur off first. He hit a satellite dish on a house about eight doors away. Proper comedy crash, and it was difficult to tell who came off worse – the neighbours TV viewing or The Monkey. It had been his last flight anyway (so he says) and I helped him clean up the evidence and got him into the house for first aid. He was still grinning like an idiot. It was during the shaving and stitching process that I realised that under his fur The Monkey has a tattoo – an anchor surrounded by an octopus. I asked him when he had got that and he said that when he had been on the ship they had stopped in Jakarta and during their shore leave they had found an ex US marine who had set up as a tattooist. They had already had much drink and it didn’t take much persuading to get The Monkey into the chair. I suggested that I should shave him completely just in case there were more surprises. He called me a pervert and we had a couple of Jacks as I finished blanket stitching the wound.
Sky engineer turned up this evening. Guess The Monkey came off best…
The Monkey was a bit sore this morning. I asked him if he regretted pushing it so far yesterday and he gave me a look like I was stupid. ‘Why would I do that?’ he asked. I said that in hindsight it might have been better to stop before he had injured himself. Still I got the idiot child look. He made himself some breakfast and I could see him thinking as he sat and ate it. When he had finished, he looked at me and said ‘I see the problem’ then followed it up with ‘You’re being a dickhead. Just because you struggle to live in the now doesn’t mean we all have to worry about everything we do.’
I got a bit annoyed about that – probably because it is true – and said that it was okay for him as he is the incarnation of chaos. He just laughed at me and told me that was bollocks, why should that make a difference? I said that he was quite happy with uncontrolled change but that humans liked some order. This got a whole series of face pulling and laughter. ‘Change is eternal!’ he said. ‘Nothing, and I mean nothing stays the same.’ He then made some point about not waiting for perceived perfection but enjoying the true perfection of now. I pointed out that that just sounded like an excuse to do whatever you want and damn the consequences and he said that sometimes that was the case but more often it was a case of doing what needed to be done at that moment, and if what needed to be done was to leap off the shed roof with a make shift glider in a gale then that was fine. But what about the gash on his shoulder? ‘So what? It will heal’ he replied.
I sat and thought about how much I had smiled yesterday watching him have fun and I knew he was right. When he hurt himself all the what ifs came crashing in and I realise now that they are only really part of the human mind and nothing to do with what is actually happening. I have resolved to try to live without worrying about the future and I think it is just in time as The Monkey has informed me that the men from the van have started to move into the house down the street. In The Monkey’s words ‘This means war’…
Been discussing with The Monkey what our tactics should be. I asked if we were going to break into the house, but The Monkey says it will only be a recon to try and gauge who they are. He wants them to come to us as he says that having them on our turf will be easier. Not sure about that but I think he has something in mind and he’s holding off giving me the details at the moment.
I found my old copy of The Dice Man and gave it to The Monkey to read. Be interesting to see what he thinks of it after our conversation yesterday…
Went into the house last night. Well, The Monkey went into the house, I stayed outside and kept watch on the escape route. He said that I would make too much noise and not be much use. I objected to that, but he said that the only place I was a ninja was in my head. So, I crouched outside the back door while he slipped in through a kitchen window that was open just a couple of inches. Comes in handy having small hands, long arms, and a massively powerful grip if you are breaking and entering – apparently. Then he opened the backdoor a little so that he would have a clear exit if it all went tits up and I stayed there to make sure it didn’t close.
The Monkey was in there for nearly fifteen minutes and I was starting to get anxious, and cold. Then he came slinking back through the shadows of the kitchen and indicated that he was going to lock the kitchen door again and get back out through the window. It all went smoothly, and we were back in our house a few minutes later. I cracked open the Jack while The Monkey lit up a cigar and told me what he had found. Seems they have very little stuff downstairs other than a couple of chairs and a TV. Upstairs is where the good stuff is. They had a bedroom each (The Monkey had sneaked a look and found them snoring on camp beds) and the third, biggest bedroom was filled with computer equipment and oscilloscope type displays. There was also a video camera on a tripod which The Monkey guessed they would use for recording reports if anything major happened. He followed a thick bundle of leads that led out through the bedroom door and then up through the loft hatch into the roof. He easily jumped up to the edge of the loft hatch using the doorframe for purchase and crouched there for a short while to make sure he hadn’t been heard. Then he turned on the little Maglite he was carrying and had a good look at the new contents of the loft. He said that it was like a satellite TV convention – loads of dishes all pointing towards our house. He had seen enough then, so he lowered himself down from the loft and made his way downstairs. It was then that he noticed the boxes on the floor by one of the kitchen cabinets. It was an alarm system, brand new, and waiting to be installed. We were lucky to get in when we did, a day or two later and we would have triggered it off. Although The Monkey says there is no such thing as luck just like there are no such things as coincidences, or free lunches. I asked him if there was any indication of who they were, but he said it was all rather sterile and looked a bit shinny to be the authorities.
Today The Monkey has been formulating a plan – which he still won’t tell me. I’m sure he does it just to wind me up. So I just got on with some work and left him to it. Guess it’s going to happen whether I know the details now or not…
The Monkey has stirred up the black hole. He threw a box into it that was full of meat and decorated on the outside with sigils and runes and occult diagrams (also some Mr Men stickers?). This while chanting some stuff he had discovered in one of his books. The hole has got a lot noisier, not back to the levels of New Year but it should attract some attention. All part of the plan apparently.
He has been thinking about the stuff in the van men’s (must think of another name for them) loft. He says that having gone over what he saw he remembers that one of the dishes was pointing straight up rather than in the direction of our house. He wonders whether they have access to a satellite that can pick up activity from the black hole. It’s quite possible although they would need some serious clout to get that. Once again – who are these people?…
Went out for lunch at a pub by the beach and The Monkey explained his plan. We are going to lure them into our house when they believe we have gone away for a couple of days. The spare room door will be left unlocked and when they go in we will have them trapped. The Monkey is a little fuzzy on the next part, but he says we will ‘persuade’ them to leave us alone. I asked him if we would question them to find out who they are, and he said that might happen. This is set for the end of the week to give us time to let it circulate that we will be going on a trip and also to let the energy from the black hole build up enough to get the van men excited.
The Monkey told me he had finished The Dice Man. And? ‘The guy is a pussy’, was the response. Why exactly is that I asked. ‘Because he hands over responsibility to the dice. If he wanted to do something, then he should just do it? If it’s going to happen it will and if not then so be it.’ I told him that that was the point. It gave him freedom to act without worrying about the consequences. ‘Yeah, he’s a pussy. Should have just done it without the dice’ was his answer to that. I told him that he wasn’t like humans – we generally don’t work like that unless we are sociopaths or psychos. Then he wanted to know why it always had to be so extreme with humans, why we can’t just do what we want without hurting others or getting so uptight? Over another pint we both agreed that people are pretty stupid. Then we went for a walk on the beach and built a sand mermaid with massive tits.
I asked The Monkey again what he meant by ‘persuading’ the van men and he just said ‘Whatever is necessary’…