MONKEY BUISNESS

Self was not yet in the picture, he didn’t get it.
He was standing against the fireplace with his back reflected into the mirror behind him. Without saying a word, he removed his elbow from the mantelpiece – a pose that had lent him a most interesting aspect, one that Razar hadn’t witnessed before. A new Self who Razar didn’t know.
Twicklewood Cottage was shared accommodation. It was on an average street, but it stood out as ‘Twicklewood Cottage’ A gate led you through a white painted, wooden
Pickett fence, onto a well kept green lawn, with a pathway, snaking its way through a small orchard of eight crab-apple trees, divided in half, running horizontally towards the cottage, which was thirties built mock Tudor.
Twicklewood Cottage is where Self, Razar and Marty met up each or every other week, to basically have a gripe. Each evening centred on a different person. You know these guys know each other – well you’d have thought at least they would,
Having known each other for between eight and fifteen years.
You drink as you want to continue, towards loosing a sense of touch.
Finding himself facing his two friends, Self felt a sudden pang – of remorse perhaps.
Later on from last week, before what had happened, Self reminisced, tears welling up,
He mumbled, spitting out “ be carefull what you wish for – you might just get it.”
Everything that was spoken in this moment has its roots firmly planted in the past. Little nigglely things that never seem to go away or be answered but continue to grow to a devastating effect.
Self’s drug and alcohol fuelled voice had let him down, before, and on many an occasion, and indeed Self had lost his voice sometime a while back which led him to become and be known as Self. Maybe it was this discovery of his voice which led him to lose it.
An evenings drinking with your mates should start as it was meant to go on.
“I think your nothing but a little prankster” Self retorted. “Your setting this thing up and your not delivering the punch line and I can’t help but feel cheated, I give and I
give and I give, and all I want to know is what sucks. How do I find a decent voice.
What questions do I have to ask of myself, to know whats crap and whats not. Whats the problem ? Don’t you just wish that stuff could be easier ? Self reflected.
“That’s your job” sniffed Razar. At this moment Razar’s languid stare sent him gazing out through the cottage window into the opaque lavender-grey fog of the evening.
“I’m just not getting the conversations that I need – I clam up and might appear aggressive and difficult. I’m just crap” Self said, cheering himself up.
“The adding and subtracting of words, the regret and effect they have on other words,
then again saying a word over and over again, to hear all its meanings and connotations until the word becomes devoid of all meaning” pause “what should I do? Self went on speaking in a trance like state. “Tell me – my works shit – I’m not going to crumble, I’m just going to work it out” stumbled Self. “And I feel so lonely” he continued.
“You are an artist Self – this is your territory” injected Razar.
“Oh please tell me Razar” Self pleaded.
“Your asking too much” responded Razar.
“You want the whole story, do you ? Your not worth it, its just too difficult for me to retell” Self confessed.
“More drinks ? Marty interrupted “have you changed the subject yet ? Or should I be making some nibbles” he continued, without getting an answer he turned returning to the pantry-fyed kitchen.
“Well actually I only read it once and I know I didn’t get it” Razar tried to explain.
“Your denying me because I’m not aggressive enough” “I wish things could be easier” Self reflected.
“There are ways you know” Razar instigated.
“What do you mean ways” inquired Self.
Marty had side stepped the whole issue, by busying himself with getting more drinks.
He was fussing about in the kitchen making one hell of a racket.
Razar was now searching for his shoulder bag while in the background, Mick ‘the Lips’ sings out from the radio “You can’t always git what you want – but you can try en sometimes you might git what you need – Woo ! Woo !
Self had always thought of shoulder bags, purses and pouches as being rather maternal, and secretly smiled to himself thinking of the number of men who’ve fallen victim of the need to possess one. Like we need to carry all this stuff for our survival.
Where would we be without a cell phone, a comb, brush, deoderant, electric shaver,address book, novel, magazine, scarf or sweater and gum.
The bluster of the winds gently fighting outside gave a certain comfort to be inside, by the warmth of the fireplace, listening to the Stones and Marty in the background.
“I have this which was passed onto me by a great friend of mine, who is no longer with us. Its meant to grant you three wishes.”spoke razar as a matter of fact.
At this point Razar brought from his bag, a small ugly grub of a thing.
“It’s a monkey’s paw, its from a species of monkey that’s closest to man” Razar confided. I was told never to use it unless I was truly sure of what I wanted because you can only be granted three wishes. I guess truth is a good thing to want, so I can loan it to you with faith that it will be used for good” Razar continued.
“Razar your just so crazy man” Self teased, while receiving the paw to inspect.
At this point Marty returns to the room with a large tray of drinks and a feast of cheeses, pickles, dips, meats and bread.
“HERES MARTY ! “ Marty scowls in a wonderful grimace of a parody of himself.
Only to go flying across the room, sending the food and drinks crashing.
“OHH my ankle” Marty cries while sprawled amid all the food, drinks and stuff that is littered as a spray across the room.
“Marty be careful of my work, these are my only copies, Marty look what you’ve done” Self shouted. In an instant all the colour drained from Self’s face.
“What about me” wimpered Marty.
“You’re an arsehole” Self shouted.
“Calm down Self” intervened Razar “It’ll be alright”
“He’s destroyed all my work you fuckwitt !” screamed an hysterical Self.
“Self calm down now ! Its not his fault !” pleaded Razar.
“Why are you sticking up for him you asshole – I wish the both of you would just piss off and disappear !” with that Self realized that his hand was throbbing - feeling this he looked down to his hands where the monkey’s paw was still held by his now flushed hand. He became silent and returned his gaze to Rasar and Marty. Shockingly they were not there. Self ran to the window, he could see nothing but the fog. He then ran to the front door where apon opening it there became a silent void, on seeing this Self fell to his knees letting slip the paw which fell, and he continued to look and listen to discern a final sound or vision.