I was promised a monkey, so I will GET a monkey.

…Did I turn the oven off?…

I’m not sure if it’s normal to have a barter system on which your marriage is based, but it seems like this is where I have landed.  My starter marriage was based more in emasculating behaviours (his words) and too much man-jewelry (my words).  This marriage, or I should say my favourite marriage, seems to have some of its stability related to haggling.

My husband and I are authentically and unapologetically ourselves.  This is why it works so well.  We are both exactly what the brochure promised; we both have great Better Business Bureau ratings and a 4 star average on Yelp (which could have been higher  were it not for the unfortunate laundry incident of 2014. Sorry about your socks.)   Through  openly displaying our authentic selves we have discovered that perhaps neither of us understand how bartering works.  Ours are less You-Do-The-Dishes-I’ll-Mow-The-Lawn, and more You-Ate-All-The-Ice-Cream-So-I’ll-Buy-More-And-Hide-It-From-You.  Everybody wins.

In a weird turn, even for us, our barter today culminated with the statement “If you want a monkey sitting on your chest all day masturbating and eating eggs, that’s up to you”.

May I offer some context before you close the browser window?

The discussion really began when we went to bed last night and I was asking if we could get a chicken.  Or chickens.

We live in an urban neighbourhood of a city with a population large enough to support about 75 mattress stores and an IKEA, yet still small enough that all the really good restaurant franchises pass us over. Urban chickens are becoming a thing in some cities so it wasn’t a completely outrageous idea.

The night was cool and breezy outside, and through our open window we were reminded that we do indeed live in an urban area.  A herd of teens outside were being teens, oblivious to our old-person 9:30pm bedtime.  I turned to my husband and suggested we get chickens to combat the loud teens.

“Like to fight them?”

“No. Chickens so they will wake up the rude teens early in the morning. Let them know what it feels like to be disturbed from your natural schedule, and teens hate mornings.  It’s passive aggressive chicken ownership.”

“But they’ll wake us up too…right?”

“Yes.  But they also have eggs!”

“So do grocery stores, and a grocery store won’t wake me up at 5am.  If you’re getting chickens, I’m buying a delivery driver to go to the store for me.  I’ll have my eggs before you will and my driver will know to leave the eggs at the door and not wake me up.”

“What if I get a MONKEY to gather the eggs in the morning from the chickens?”

“Oh my god…this is all about a monkey again isn’t it? What did we agree on about the monkey? No monkeys.” ***

“This is a HELPER MONKEY though. It’s like you WANT me to get beat up by angry sleep deprived teens when I collect eggs!”

…sshhhh….you’ll enrage the slumbering teens…

“You know that monkeys just sit around all day and eat, destroy your curtains and masturbate, right?”

“I hate these curtains anyway.  It’ll be fine. And it’s not like you won’t get your delivery driver as well!  It might take me a while to teach the monkey how to drive, but they’re our closest genetic relatives so how hard could it be?” ***

I believe that was the moment I lost him.  He looked at me with the same look he gives to the elderly in line ahead of him who try to pay by cheque – a tolerant smile hiding a hint of homicide behind his twitching eye.

“If you want a monkey sitting on your chest all day masturbating and eating eggs, that’s up to you.”

If anyone knows where I can buy chickens and helper monkeys online, I’d appreciate the help.  I’d like to save on shipping though, so a big box chicken/monkey outlet would be best.  Thanks!

***I’ve been asking in increasingly creative ways for a pet monkey for months. I have agreed only to no monkey AT THIS TIME, not ZERO monkeys.


…See? Monkeys love chickens! And dogs! And smoking Marlborough Lights?…












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