The Monkey

Hi, there.

Hey.

You know you've got a fair amount of blood on you there, sir.

Oh. Huh.

Yeah, it's not even mine. It was just this...

Never mind.

Hey, listen, I need you to take this thing off my hands,

just make it someone else's problem, you know?

I mean, I thought my boys were gonna love it, but, uh...

Let me tell you, man, they will not.

No, it's not, uh... a toy,

so just don't ever call it that.

It's a, uh...

It's...

Actually, I don't know exactly what it is.

Besides, it appears to be broken.

See, the drumstick seems to be stuck in the up position.

You do not want the goddamn drumstick to come down.

Okay?

Because when it does,

I promise you, we are all fucked to hell.

Okay?

Woah... Oh...

Okay...

Well, sir, can't speak for you,

but, heh, I don't feel especially fucked to hell.

Hot dog.

Who's smiling now, you infernal son of a whore?

YEAH!

I don't know if every father

passes some secret horror onto his kids.

But mine sure did.

My name is Hal Shelborn.

This is me and my twin brother, Bill.

Well, this is us before everything.

Bill was the kind of kid who would say, "shake on it,"

but then pull his hand back and pretend to slick his hair.

He was older than me by three minutes

and ate most of my mom's placenta.

So that made him my "big" brother.

A role he took seriously.

And he treated me like shit whenever he got the chance.

I've been meaning to tell you...

Mom says she hates you because you made dad leave,

and now she has to go on dates.

But I managed to love him anyway,

even if I did sometimes fantasize

about being an only child.

I hate you, Bill Shelborn.

My mom raised us on her own

for as long as she could, at least.

And my mom,

well, I can remember her perfectly,

like it was yesterday.

Your father...

Well, your father went out for a pack of cigarettes

and never came back.

Just made like an egg and...

scrambled.

And sure, sure,

I could have been one of his stewardesses, but,

of course, the deadbeat never took me anywhere.

He just brought back

Swiss cuckoo clocks and bonsai trees.

Knick-knacks and souvenirs

to stuff our closet full.

And one day, my darling boys,

all that horse shit will be yours.

We knew my mom thought it was a bunch of junk.

But for Bill and me,

Dad's closet was full of clues to who he was.

There she is.

Old deadbeat's disguise.

The hell's that thing from?

Paris, France or something?

It says, "Organ Grinder Monkey."

"Like Life."

You mean "lifelike," dumbshit.

No.

What?

Give me that thing.

Here.

You think this does junk if I turn this?

Don't, Bill. It's Dad's.

Dad's gone, fuckface.

And I'm his next of "skin,"

so legally, everything in here's mine.

Stupid thing's broken anyway.

Don't come in our room, dumbshit.

Shotgun, obviously.

Christ, what's worse than a blind date?

I'd rather take my chances

and kiss a goddamn frog and see what happens.

Okay, boys!

Uh, no soda after you brush your teeth,

and no fires,

and no video games because of the last fire.

I tried to tell them no fires,

but these boys are nothing but willish.

Thank you, babysitter Annie.

I'll be home by midnight.

Okay, boys,

I've got only one rule for tonight.

Keep your hands off the hot parts of the table.

Okay?

I'll try, but...

I'm just a man.

Bill, knock it off.

Holy sh--

Maybe an experience like that

could have brought me and Bill closer.

But it turned out one freak tragedy

wasn't going to be nearly enough.

Fuck.

How is her head still together?

Sh. Sh. Sh.

Don't think about it too much.

Oh, fuck.

Uuuuhhh...

Oh, yeah.

Today, we are here with Annie Wilkes.

Gone by accident...

rather, in an accident

because, you know, there's no accidents.

Um... Is there a divine plan?

Sure, you know, uh, maybe.

Call it a coin toss, you know, heads or tails, heh.

But not Annie's head

because that is,

uh, separate.

That's a separate issue. Uh...

Uh... You know, why her, though, right?

Why Annie?

Why not you?

Or you?

Everything for a reason, yeah, totally.

And it is what it is.

Uuuhhh...

It is what it is.

The word of the Lord.

Amen.

Everything is an accident.

Or nothing is an accident.

Either way, same thing.

It's not if or even how.

It's only when.

Everybody dies.

And that's life.

I'll die.

And you will both die.

And all of your friends and their parents

and all of their pets and everybody.

Some of us peacefully in our sleep.

And some of us horribly...

violently, tied up with a clothesline,

and screaming through duct tape over our mouths

and all that jazz.

And to hell with it.

Come on, let's go dancing.

It might have been on the day of a funeral,

but that probably was the happiest day of my life.

It's funny how quickly that can change.

Hey, kid.

Your brother says your dad left your mom.

Lit out to Paris, France to buy cigarettes

'cause you're a big fat baby who cried all the time.

And man, don't your mom deserve better?

I mean, don't she?

-Um... -I guess that means

your mom would be wearing the pants in the house now, huh?

I think that's how it works, yeah.

Aw, but...

see, you're wearing pants.

And two people can't be wearing

the pants in the house at the same time.

So, looks like you got yourself a bit of a pants problem, kid.

Honey, I'm making PB&J.

Oh, and how am I?

Oh, I'm great! I love slaving over my two sons all day long.

Mom!

Yeah?

Why'd you put Dad's weird monkey in our room?

You know I don't go in there anymore

since I found that stiff sock.

Oh, yeah.

You didn't have anything to do

with my babysitter's head, right?

-That'd be like-- -Yo!

You really got the hots for that thing, huh?

-I--I don't. -It's all good.

You can have it, but...

all you gotta do is say you wanna marry it.

But I don't wanna marry it.

Say, "I wanna be Mrs. Stupid Monkey."

I wanna be Mrs. Stupid Monkey.

Now say...

"I wanna suck its banana."

-No, Bill, no. -Say it!

Or I'll eat the rest of your placenta, bitch.

I wanna suck its banana.