So I’m walking along with my dog, Cora, minding my own beeswax when this happens.
It’s early, about 6:45, a beautiful morning. Birds are singing, sun is shining, the scent of new mown grass in the air. Then I see something sitting on a mailbox up ahead. It’s too big to be a squirrel and not the right color. And why is it not moving? What the heck?
As I get closer, it comes into focus. It’s a monkey. Not just any monkey either. It’s a creepy monkey. A creepy monkey with real fur, perched up on that mailbox like it’s been just waiting for me.
Now when you walk most every day in the early morning, you see things. Most of ‘em are good, you know, like deer crossing the road or a bald eagle overhead. Sometimes it’s icky or sad, like a dead possum or groundhog. I try not to look at those. But I couldn’t look away from that creepy monkey. I mean, I was all alone on a deserted street.
Granted, I’m not big on things like that to begin with. You know, a Santa Claus with a button that when you press it, wiggles around and sings “Jingle Bell Rock”? That’s just too Bride of Chucky for me. Or one year at our Black Fly Festival, Connie LeBlanc was selling beady-eyed scarecrow clown 
lawn ornaments she made. Yikes! Them clowns of hers were positively demonic! Like they’re going to come to life during the night and eat your children!
Anywho, talk about a Stephen King moment. I live in a small town in Maine and I find myself on a deserted road and there’s a creepy monkey with real fur perched on a mailbox. Even though no one was around, I felt weird crossing the road to the other side. Get a grip, Ida, I’m thinking.
But as I pass the abomination, part of me expected the monkey’s eyes to glow red. Then, its head would started to move and it would rub its little hands together and attack. And being much faster than me, would hop onto my leg and sink its sharp yellow teeth into my calf.
Then you just know I’d start turning into a monkey, right? Real gradual at first, like Jeff Goldblum in “The Fly.” I’d suddenly be shaving my legs a couple times a day and craving banana bread and coconut water. And bing, bang, boom, I’d have to leave Charlie and Cora, to protect them from my weird monkey-ness. Before you know it, I’d be just another creepy monkey sitting atop someone else’s mailbox in Mahoosuc Mills, as we slowly take over the town.
I kept my eyes on the monkey as I passed, and nothing happened, of course. Or did it wink at me? I swear it did. At the very least its eyes followed me as I passed, pulling on Cora’s leash so she wouldn’t stop to pee. Good riddance, creepy monkey. I hope you’re not here tomorrow!
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Creepy Monkey