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Date: 1/16/00
Time: 11:37PM

I had a monkey once named Jimmy. His big problem was that he knew I'd imprisoned him in my apartment and he wanted the fuck out.. And much as you or I might do in a similar circumstance and with similar limited intelligence he struck out with a bewildering array of bizarre and dangerous behavioral abnormalities. Biting, shitting on the bed, pissing on my clothes, throwing glassware, making terrifying sounds, actually spanking his own monkey in front of company (which is supposedly normal), running the electric can opener at 3 in the morning, and most notably and entirely fatal for him, playing with matches. Ol' Jimmy'd get out the big box of blue tip matches and light a few. He must have watched my wife setting the fire is all we could figure. It had become plain to Lila, my wife, that Jimmy hated us both and wanted to kill us, I took some additional convincing. When Lila found burned match sticks on the kitchen floor she thought I'd been careless, but a week later the same thing happened and this time the Match box was missing. Suspicion fell on the little hellion. A quick search found no box of matches and we went to bed for what, if not for a smoke detector, would have be the last time. Fuckin' monkey at 1 AM went and got the matches from wherever they were stashed and deliberately lit our living room drapes on fire. The house filled with smoke and the drapes and one side of a couch were completely ablaze. Awakened by the alarm we stumbled through a thick choking smoke to find Jimmy the monkey the happiest we'd ever seen him with the red glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes. Lila grabbed him and ran out into the hall to relative safety. Once there Jimmy sank his teeth into her left breast and bizarrely and insanely slipped back into the apartment as I came out. Anyway, cut to the chase, firemen came, apartment a big loss, Jimmy put down authoritatively and with extreme prejudice. I guess the whole point of my little story is to illustrate that we too are each of us like a Jimmy trapped by our abysmal lack of intelligence and imagination into living in a miserable world we cannot hope to comprehend and feeling the dead blow of that realization we lash out in many varied and meaningless ways. Starting a fire here and a fire there comforting ourselves in the glow. Jimmy knew it. The fire's the thing. And by "ourselves" I mean "you", Dr Popeye-X.

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