A few years ago, I was staying at a place in Bali near Uluwatu. It was a beautifully junky place with a beautiful view of the ocean that cost almost nothing. Cheap cheap special friend price, you know? The rooms were open air bunks and the bathroom was simply a hole, but it was just about perfect… except for one thing.
Just outside the kitchen lived a little pet monkey. It sat there crying all day, chained to a wall and desperate for attention. I spent a lot of time with that monkey, petting its little head, scratching its neck, bringing it treats and generally feeling very bad for it. It liked me, I think, and would chatter excitedly when I walked up to it. It soon began climbing my arm to sit on my shoulder and pick through my hair, which I assumed was a monkey’s gesture of affection.
One morning, just after the sun was up, I sat on the stairs with the little monkey, smoking a clove cigarette, drinking a Bali kopi. I think I was reading Shogun, but it could have been something trashier. The monkey sat contentedly on my shoulder, chattering every now and then, enjoying the morning with me. After a while though, it began to get a little agitated, gently biting at my ear and lightly clawing at my shoulder, shifting around a little more than usual. I was pretty involved with my book, so I just kind of let it happen. When my friend walked up the stairs and started laughing, I was confused.
“Alex,” he giggled, pointing at the monkey. “Why are you letting it do that?”
As it turned out, on that beautiful, quiet morning, the cute little monkey that I petted and loved and brought treats for was fucking my shoulder. There was a weird desperation to it, like a man on death row during his last conjugal visit. I don’t like monkeys anymore.
The video above is from Anastasia Ashley’s photo shoot for Naked and Afraid. She was at the Belize Zoo trying to be sexy with a snake when a spider monkey’s interest… popped up. Monkeys are perverts.
