I was at the zoo with my daughter today, and it brought to memory the time I was attacked by a capuchin monkey. It was an adorable monkey, mind you; it was wearing a sweet little handkerchief dress, and everything.
It was my first ever outing with the women in my husband's family, without him along. This was 1993, years before we were married, and I was as self-conscious and anxious as one can be. I was already worried about my hair, and if I was sweating too much. California summers can be brutal, and the Santa Clara County fairgrounds aren't known for having a ton of shade.
Anyway, I'd just put my name in a raffle for a Glamor Shots photo shoot (I won, by the way. The photo is epic, as my kids would say. Lots of leather, and HUGE bangs). I think we were on our way for a funnel cake, and would you look at this: An organ grinder, with his adorable monkey baby, strolled to a stop in front of us.
This is not the actual monkey
The man twisted the handle on his instrument, and the creature danced around, tiny skirt twirling. Amidst applause, the monkey went from person to person collecting outstretched dollar bills.
I'm not one to deny a monkey a buck, so I put my hand out, all ready to pay up.
The capuchin had other ideas.
Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, that hairy jerk went Jeckyll and Hyde. First she (it?) ripped that dollar out of my hand, and tucked it somewhere. Next thing I knew, her arms and legs were wrapped around me, little freaky hands and feet gripping tight. She's squealing like I'm the one attacking her, and she decides my fist would make a nice snack.
Oddly even little teeth anchored around my wrist, as people begin screaming and running away. I decided that there is only one way to end this, and began trying to shake the simian loose.
Whomp! Whomp! The air whistled by my ear as I lifted my arm above my head, shaking it toward the ground. After four or five attempts, the beast lost its hold and flew toward her owner, bouncing a few times along the way.
Silence.
Everyone was frozen for a beat. I looked at my new tooth-mark bracelet, wincing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the monkey and her daddy make a swift exit. In shock, I stood there.
Then we went for funnel cake.
Honest to god. No one said a word: The night just moved right along.
And the funnel cake was delicious.
This haunts my dreams
