Monkey Diaries Archive

An excerpt from my book, "Forty Thieves" When I was eight, I convinced my younger brother to give me his single dollar bill in exchange for my four nickels, using the argument that four was better than one. Upon proudly detailing my clever transaction for my father, he pulled out the strap and gave me four belts using my own words against me. As he dealt the punishment, my father told me that everyone is simply a collection of experiences and this one was bound to teach me something. “Yeah, it’ll teach me to keep my mouth shut,” I said which provoked an additional slap on the ass. My father then went on to explain that without trial and error, life wouldn’t be worth living. It was and is the single most important lesson I’ve ever learned. I thought about that as I saw Lanie from across the bar, kissing her new boyfriend. When she pulled back, she smiled at him in a way that cut me six ways to Sunday. “That’s gotta sting.” Schulter offered at my elbow, two large Vodka Tonics in his hands. “You get what you pay for.” I quipped as I grabbed both VTs, downing first one then the other. Since Lanie lived just a few short blocks from my apartment, scenes like this were inevitable. Of course, no one likes having their mistakes bobbing to the surface like dead bodies every time they hit the lake for fishing trip. Just then, I began seeing my last few relationships for what they were. The images playing in my mind killed the beginnings of a gentle buzz that was just forming. I realized that if all of my failures as a man passed in front of me, the resulting parade would make Macy’s Thanksgiving Day spectacle look like a Boy Scout troop walking to a meeting.