I dislike monkeys. Totally personal. I am aware that essentializing monkeys is quite possibly unfair. There is a remote, very remote chance that there are nice monkeys. A few. Somewhere. I have not met them. So I stand firm: I dislike monkeys.
Two in the afternoon in the magical house on the West African coast (see ‘About’). Siesta time! My parents and little sister were upstairs napping away the hottest hour of the day. For me the equivalent of “home alone”! I was downstairs with a magnificent view to the garden/jungle that surrounded the house, and the sea beyond. Palm trees swaying in the soft sea breeze. Not a sound about the house. For some strange – and fortunate – reason, the sliding glass doors were closed. A bit hot inside, but what does one care about the heat when one is seven or eight?
I was reading…
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Equinoxio 
my father used to have a squirrel monkey, his step son brought it home, it was a cute but vile nasty little creature, would jump on your lap at dinner and his little hand would reach up and steal your food. Then he would go sit in a lamp and eat it, dropping crumbs everywhere. At night he’d sleep on top of the edge of the door and poop on the door handle. argh…..wanted a monkey till that episode….he still has a cat though, it was a small monkey, not a baboon, that would absolutely freak me out! and snakes too…deadly or otherwise. Great share here Brian ❤ and weren't you the cutest little thing?
Flattery will get you nowhere… 😉 Glad you liked the story. (A very vivid memory) ❤
I’ve never liked them either. They remind me of all the worst human traits.
Absolutely. That explains a lot about us with such ancestors…
Enjoyed this story. Young boys have the greatest adventures and our memories enhance them even more. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you. Have a nice week-end.
it is one scary yet funny story Brieuc!