Always the Bad Guy

Many years ago, I had a very large and diverse group of friends: a few jocks, more than a few burn outs, your standard garden variety baby gangsters, and a few which would be called eccentric to say the least.

One close friend in particular decided to stop dealing in things that, “fell off the truck,” stop drinking, drugging, gambling and go to church. I thought it was a bit much to attempt all at once, compounding the difficulty, like if one tried to stop smoking and go on a diet at the same time. When doing that much you could feasibly have a legitimate insanity defense if you committed any type of violent crime.

In short though, he’d had enough of living the way he presently was and wanted to lead a much more productive life than he had ever led. I actually was one of the few who commended him, as for the most part, each and every one of us was on our own personal kind of crash and burn mission. Then to up the ante he decided to buy a florist. He didn’t know how to water a plant, and I thought that was a horrendous idea.

Nevertheless it was his life, and also his not-so-hard-earned cash.. He purchased a fully stocked florist’s shop, and added all the floral bells and whistles he could think of. He started actually doing quite well. My dear friend worked diligently day and night until he learned the business and became popular in certain circles.

One day, I decided to visit. The second I walked into the place I heard what sounded like a monkey on television. Seconds later, I was greeted by my dear friend with a live infant monkey sitting on his shoulder. I instantly knew this was not a good idea. For starters monkeys climb trees, and since there were no trees the hundred or so hanging baskets would suffice nicely. Also, for those of you that have never seen one up close, monkeys – even small ones such as this – possess fangs any canine would be jealous of.