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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1020054-Day-Two-of-Andres-Challenge
Rated: E · Book · Writing · #2242935
Rhymer’s Blog on Life
#1020054 added October 24, 2021 at 10:12pm
Restrictions: None
Day Two of Andre’s Challenge
         Andre's was the local pub where writers of the community could hang out together, to converse about experiences and debate literary devices, and though I didn't want to, Lilli asked that I close the bar up. After closing and locking up the previous might. I lacked the enthusiasm when I was certain I'd envisioned Snoop Dogg emerging from the restroom in a cloud of…mist. Unexcited about what might be dropped upon me by fates unknown, I walked into the bar at eight that night. A shorter shift could justify my fear, my devotion fraught with fright.
 
           Andre's was the local pub where writers of the community could hang out together, to converse about experiences and debate literary devices, and though I didn't want to, Lilli asked that I close the bar up. After closing and locking up the previous might. I lacked the enthusiasm when I was certain I'd envisioned Snoop Dogg emerging from the restroom in a cloud of…mist. Unexcited about what might be dropped upon me by fates unknown, I walked into the bar at eight that night. A shorter shift could justify my fear, my devotion fraught with fright.
 
           I walked into the bar expecting the worst, but there was Lilli behind the bar, smiling and wiping down the counters as she tended to the few people in on Tuesday night. When she smiled, my fear drained, and I was ready to get through this evening, familiar confidence oozing back in. I walked through the door for the employees, and as I walked behind the length of the bar, I dropped my things off at the end where we kept our personal things like man-purses, Redbull, and coffee. I turned to greet the manager, to ask how her day had gone, but there on the end of the bar, facing the two of us, was the sock monkey.
 
           The bar was decorated for Halloween. There were ghosts hanging on wires from the ceiling, and here and there were pumkins carved in the likeness of literary characters such as Pennywise and Pazuzu and Miss Havisham, the scariest of the scary. There was a mechanical Frankenstein, complete with eyes that lit up as it did a little jig to “Monster Mash”. Candles were added for spooky ambience, but none of these crept like ice into the depths of my soul as did the sock monkey.
 
           It was vintage, someone’s chacki that had traveled through time and around the world, and, for some reason, Lilli kept putting it back out after I’d put it away. The fear was irrational, like a phobia, and the intelligent side of myself could easily reason there was nothing of which to be afraid. But it was inherently creepy, and the irrational voice screaming in my heart prevailed. Maybe it was the stringy hair, or it could have been the saftey pins across the patented red mouth, but I’d hidden the gross relic many times in the instances I’d been here to hang out. But when Lilli was present, she had this gift of ingesting so much coffee and then breaking the barriers of time, of motion, and she could move like electricity. It just made sense to believe she kept bringing Sockey back out, and I was certain she was doing it with clear and delightfully malicious intent.
 
           “Just so you know,” I said to her, “I’m hiding that monkey as soon as you leave.”
 
           “That’s fine,” she responded. “It kinda creeps me out. Hey, I gotta go. I’m already ten minutes late.”
 
           “Oh, yeah! Tell your granddaughter good job with the play!”
 
           “Will do,” she said as she dropped her towel and snatched her purse. “Hey, if Snoop Dogg shows up tonight, will you get his recipe for Christmas cookies?”
 
           “Go!” I said to her as she crossed the door and left the building.
 
           I walked over to the monkey and removed it from the bar, shoving it into one of the shelves underneath. Looking around, I had a feeling it would be an easy night. There were a couple of regulars chatting away in a booth as Connie Francis played on the jukebox. Lilli had already taken care of the cleaning, so there didn’t seem to be much to do. I grabbed the bleach bottle and a towel, then walked out to wipe the tables down, even if they didn’t need it. Something to do.
 
           I stopped as I went beyond the employee door, the sock monkey sitting on top of a napkin dispenser on the booth furthest from everyone except me. I stared at it, my forehead cramping as I shoved my eyebrows down, and then I looked around, glancing to see if the others noticed anything odd. And then I realized the explanation had to be Lilli was messing with me, that she had placed it here on her way out.
 
           Except…I forced it away after Lilli left.
 
           “Nope,” I whispered as I took it from the table. I squeezed it, could feel the pressure from my fingers on my fingers through the material as I threw it in the trash. Nobody would miss it.
 
           In the few hours I had left to work, none of my fears manifested. Nobody came in with a gun, there were no beligerent customers, and nothing burned down. When my responsibility, I welcomed nights like this. With the building locked up tight, I walked to my car. The air was thick, but it smelled fresh in the tickling autumnal breeze. The streetlight buzzed with a thick hum, and then it was silent as the world around me was hurled into the night. I don’t remember if I stopped or kept walking, but it didn’t take too long for the light to burst back into existence, the droning of electricity returning, as well.
 
           I glanced around, skeptical that things were okay. I’ve read too many books, seen too many movies, and I know how horror works when one lets down defenses. My keys were leaving cuts I wouldn’t discover for hours afterwards, slashes in my index finger as I prepared myself to use the keys for…what? To provide inconvenient cuts to a demon sock monkey? I laughed at myself, at this situation.
 
           I approached the car, opened the door, and dropped into the seat. Something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel comfortable in the vehicle. I raised up and pulled the monkey out from under me.
 
           The monkey.
 
           I tossed it through the window, then shook my hands as if dusting away curses that might have attatched themselves to my life. I don’t need that. I have three spoiled cats; I don’t need any more possession in my life, no more demons. Unease crawled up into me, and I put the car in drive and launched away from the premise. I can remember wondering what had just happened, the rain sprinkling down on the windshield. By time I pulled into my driveway, it’d started to shower, cold water on a now chilly night. I got out of the car and raced into the house, still looking around for that stupid toy. Now that there was time and distance between me and the homeless toy, it seemed silly to be afraid of it.
 
           I considered just drying off, but a shower would be better, so I stripped and turned the hot water on, tinkering around with things beside the sink until the shower was warm enough. I stepped into the water, and when I shut the door, I could hear a symphony of meows as my pets, one by one, made their way into the bathroom. I finished my shower and dried off, and then I opened the shower door. When I reached down to pet one of the kitties, Peppermint, when she reared up and hissed at me, scratching at my hand. All of the felines were in here, all of them screaming. Even as I stepped into my sleep-pants, they seemed purturbed, anxious.
 
           I walked them through the house, through each room to ensure them nothing was out of place. Or maybe it was to remind myself, but as we came into the kitchen, I flipped the light on. I walked over to the pantry, and the cats hissed, growling under their normal tones. There was a noise coming from the smaller room, a crunching just behind the door. I cocked my head, but I couldn’t place what the sound could have been. I held my breath and reached for the doorknob.
 
           It was there, the sock monkey, and it was rummaging through the bags of chips, moving them and tossing them to the floor. It turned its head, a slow, tense swivel as I watched in terror, watched as its eyes burned with the darkest flames, illuminating the pantry in orange. It opened its mouth, and before I could react, it uttered its question at me.
 
           “What,” it asked with the voice of demons, “does a stitch have to do to get a banana around this dump?”
 
 
 
 WC:1415
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Andre The Blog Monkey's Banana Bar  (18+)
It's a cyber bar owned by an imaginary monkey and operated by his minions.
#1985857 by Brother Nature


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1020054-Day-Two-of-Andres-Challenge