A Google in Time Saves Nine

Whenever she came through the drive-thru, whoever was at the first window would sing through the speakers, “Will, your monkey girl’s here!” and then everybody wired in would howl, whistle, and generally make themselves completely obnoxious while I would try to act cool and indifferent that the current object of my obsession was heading toward my window.
“Big surprise,” I’d mutter into my headset. “It’s nearly closing time. She always comes through before we shut down.” Then, I’d focus on quick-bagging the few orders that had come in before hers.
“Keeping track, aren’t ya, Tarzan?” they’d say then.
Or it might be George of the Jungle, Curious George, or even Speedracer after that movie came out. Once, one of the old guys called me Jane something, and when nobody laughed, he changed it to Cornelius. That guy was creepy. He used to volunteer to clean out the Playplace tubes – finally, the manager let him go. It didn’t stop the monkey jokes, but they weren’t such a big deal anyway.
Except for the banana ones. They made me mad. I almost got fired for shoving Lonnie one night for shooting his mouth off about whether or not I’d given a banana to the monkey girl. He didn’t really fall into the fryer like he tried to claim. His arm got a little scorched from the heat, but it didn’t even blister. Not much anyway. And at least the manager put an end to the banana comments. And the ones about monkeys jumping on the bed. With those out of the way, then like I said, the others weren’t much of a problem anyway.
Especially not when she got to my window to pay for her order, always a grilled chicken wrap – no sauce, no tomatoes – and a diet lemonade. She always paid with a five dollar bill, and I always had her change ready before hand. I knew that she liked a lot of napkins and not a lot of ice. And I always made sure that she had her spoon and an extra mint at the bottom of her bag. I tried not to make a big deal about it, but I know that she noticed I was giving her a little extra attention. At least, I guessed that she did. She kept coming back, didn’t she? And she always smiled so prettily at me and I liked to think that the hand contact we made when we exchanged money was made a little longer than necessary on her side of the deal.
But after she pulled away with her order, I was back at everyone’s mercy until we got too busy with closing duties to say much of anything.
Up until then, though, they always piled joke after joke on me.
“Will, wave bye-bye at the little monkeys!” someone would always yell. I’d snort in disgust, but I’d always try to sneak a quick glance out across the front counter through the side windows to see her Volvo pull away. The whole back window was filled with sock monkeys of every size and color.
“Did you see her plates, Will?” people would laugh and start chanting, “MUNKY4U! MUNKY4U!” I’d just turn down the volume on my headset as low as I dared and just focus on getting the final orders out of my window. A lot of people personalize their plates, so I didn’t see the big deal. I do wish I had some police friends, though. I’m not a stalker, but you can’t really find anything out from googling a license plate number.
“As far as you leaned out there to give her that order, I’m surprised you didn’t get your headset caught on all that crap hanging from her mirror. How many monkey keychains does she have anyway?” someone asked once.
“How should I know? Do you think I counted them?” I’d grumble. But I knew she had nine counting the ones on the mirror and the one on her key in the ignition, but not counting another I’d spotted one night poking out of her open purse.
“Bet you liked her shirt, didn’t ya, Will?” or “What monkey stuff she have on tonight, Will?” were part of the usual routine after she left. I never answered them, just shrugged and kept working. They were right though. She always had on something with a monkey print or sock monkey pattern – dress, t-shirt, halter top, whatever. One hot night last week, she even had on a swimsuit with sweet little monkey faces on her… anyway, that night was the one I shoved Lonnie for saying stuff about the girl and my banana. That night was a bad one.
Thankfully, I knew that when the monkey songs started it was almost over. “Brass Monkey” – “Shake that Monkey” – “Hey Hey We’re the Monkees” – I thank God that there aren’t too many monkey songs out there, at least not many that the crew I work with know about.
So after the jokes, the songs, then we’d get so busy closing up and shutting down and chasing off the last customers, that they’d all forget about it.
Until the next night.
Then it would happen all over again.
But…
tonight…
…was different.
She’d pressed the five into my hand a little harder than normal. She’d held eye contact a little longer than normal. She’d smiled a little brighter and a little wider than normal.
I didn’t figure it out until I counted my register at the very end of the night.
Then, there it was. Right there in front of my face. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it, and I was so glad that nobody after her paid with a big bill. I was so glad that I was going home then, because I don’t think I could’ve waited once I saw it.
Of course, I had to borrow a five from my boss, which meant agreeing to work doubles next weekend, but it was worth it to get that five from the till.
I know I could’ve just entered it into my phone or written it down on a napkin or even on my hand like I’d seen some of the guys and girls I worked with do.
But I had to have it. The actual five dollar bill that she’d handed me and that she’d written on in her own handwriting before she’d even gotten to my window.
The five dollar bill that said on its margins on both sides: Hi Will!! AIM!! --> munkygirl99 <-- Let’s chat!!
And best of all, in my opinion, she’d drawn all the exclamation points to look like bananas.

Somewhere Over the Google

If Ham had stayed where he belonged , he would never have found the rainbow.

He wanted to share his beautiful discovery, but no one would climb as high as he had.

So, he watched the gorgeous arch of colors all by himself. The rainbow didn’t stay long. Misty clouds above the rainforest dropped down and cloudy mists rose up from the foliage. Together, they hid the rainbow from sight.

Then, very slowly and very sadly, he lowered himself hand over feet, down through the treetops, to where his six brothers and sisters were waiting on a broad branch in the all-too-familiar canopy.

“You’re going to be in trouble!” his brother Rocky yelled out when Ham’s face popped out of the thick leafy ceiling over their heads.

“Mother’s going to be mad!” his brother Mooch shouted as he swung his body down through the leaves and dangled his feet just above their frowning faces.

“We’re telling!” sang his sisters Spark, Missy, Gee, and Little Doodies when he dropped down right in front of them onto their branch. Then, with a nasty laugh, all of his brothers and sisters leapt away, from branch to branch, in the direction of home.

Ham sighed. He looked up at the tangle of leaves and branches, vines and flowers. He cocked his head at the sound of twittering birds and buzzing insects. He flared his nostrils to absorb the rainforest smells – some sweet and fragrant, some stinky and rotten. He opened his mouth and pretended to taste everything on his pink tongue.

Nothing could make him forget. He missed the rainbow.

When he finally arrived home, he was very late. He had not leapt from branch to branch. He had not swung on liana vines. He had moved very slowly, pretending to be one of those odd upside-down animals who always ignored his questions and never laughed at any of his tricks.

His brothers and sisters were waiting on the branch just below their family nest.

“We told!” Spark, Missy, Gee, and Little Doodies giggled.

“Mother’s mad,” Mooch chortled.

“You’re in trouble!” Rocky sniggered.

Ham ignored them and climbed into his nest.

His mother pointed a long finger at him, “Your brothers and sisters told me what you did. Do you have any idea how mad I am and how much trouble you are in?”

Ham sat and stared at his feet. His tail wrapped nervously around his waist. He held its tip in both hands. “I wanted to see over the treetops.”

His mother threw her head back and howled once at the puzzle of leafy branches that blocked every bit of the sky. Their rainforest neighbors echoed her angry shout. Ham heard his brothers, his sisters, lots of other monkeys, all kinds of birds, and even what sounded like a jungle cat from way down in the shadowy understory. Ham gripped his tail tightly. He looked up into his mother’s fuming eyes.

She pointed at his chest. “What are you?”.

“A monkey,” he replied.

She nodded and gestured at the branches surrounding the nest. “Yes, and where do monkeys play?”

“In the canopy,” he answered softly.

She nodded and bared her teeth. “Yes! The canopy! Play there and stay there! Never go lower…”

Ham remembered the cat’s scream and nodded vigorously.

“…and never climb higher,” his mother warned. She stared at him as though waiting for him to nod. He didn’t.

“But monkeys climb trees,” he whispered instead. “And some trees go high, much higher than the canopy, way up into the clouds, up almost to the sky. If the trees go there, why can’t we climb all the way up, too?”

His mother arched her back and howled a second time, even louder than before. Ham wanted to cover his ears with his hands, but he just held his tail more tightly.

As the echoes died, she lowered her face close to his and hissed, “Why would we, Ham? There is no reason to go up there! We have everything we need right here in the canopy!” She waved at the nest around them.

Ham looked at the stockpiled of food his family had gathered. He looked at the plump greenish-purple figs, the funny-looking starfruits, the papayas, the heaped cacao nuts, and a even a few delicious beetles creeping about. He closed his eyes and thought about how fantastic all those things tasted. He remembered all the other wonderful things he’d seen and heard and smelt on the way back to the nest.

He opened his eyes and looked sadly at his mother. Behind her, he spied the eyes of his siblings peeking over the edge of the nest. He turned his back on them and covered his face with his hands. His mother had to lean in closely to hear his whispered words.

“But we don’t have any rainbows.”