I got Humped by a Monkey.
Looking like a ginger version of the Milky way kid, the Orange juice kid I guess you could say and just turning 8 years of age the last place you’d picture me is standing in an abandoned house getting humped by a monkey in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Being watched by my mother.
Moving there at a young age my child hood was still like most kids. Playing outside and fucking around with the neighbours patience until shouted home for dinner, mine just included a brief encounter getting humped against my will by a monkey.
Playing in the neighbourhood setting fireworks under cow shit and running like fuck word got around of a stray monkey had been roaming around the neighbour hood. As kids do we all got our bikes and went on the hunt armed with a pocket full of fireworks, a box of matches and the courage towards adventure only kids have that is mostly lost with adulthood. A couple of laps round the block and a pit stop to drink some water out a neighbours garden hose we call it a day and all go home.
The next afternoon across the street from my house the beast appeared on top on a wall of an abandoned house that we lived across from. Just pacing the wall. “Muuuuuuum!!!!! Get me a banana!” I shout into the house in such with such a demanding tone that out marches my mother ready to slap me across the back of the head with the words “WHO DO YOU...think you... are...tta..MONKEY!” tumbling out her mouth. She runs back into the house and comes back with half a dozen of the yellow half moons. Being one of the few adults that never lost her courage for adventure.
Stabbing one of the bananas onto the end of a stick we inch it towards the pacing monkey. He had a harness on which meant he probably escaped from his captors with a hidden rage towards humans. He had the strength to pull the stick out of my hands and throw it right back at me, without the banana. After staring at us for a second he quickly scurries off into the abandoned house.
The next memory I really have is standing in this abandoned building with my mother at the entrance looking up a stair case to the second floor. Then from the partition in the ceiling up towards the second floor drops this cheeky bastards face, hanging upside down by what I’ve always imagined to be his tail. Stopping to look me up and down. Then quickly disappears.
At this point I’m fucking frozen to the dirt below wish sheer fucking fear as he clambers down the stairs in front of me and grabs my left leg, his head just shy of my kneecap it stares up at me and gives me a toothy grin. Warm fury grip with teeth that would slide through my knee cap like a peach.
Luckily though all it wanted to do was thank me for the banana and started to hump the hell out of my leg, while still showing its teeth. I looked at my mother and she was standing there frozen with shock. It then let go of my leg and ran up the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. Still frozen I couldn’t signal any part of my body to move just like in a nightmare he comes running down the stairs again and jumps onto my leg! Humping away while threatening to fucking kneecap me if I move.
I hear my mother let out a scream most Swedish Black Metal bands would be honoured to play with. Causing the furry rapist to briefly let go of my leg, just enough time for my mother summon her inner 'mum mode’, grab a log just shy in length of a Scottish caber and come fucking swinging for the monkeys face, nearly missing my knee, grabbing me by the shoulder and yanking me the fuck out of the trance the monkey had put me in. Monkey sex trance. Needless to say, we RAN THE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE!
and to this day I don’t fuck around with monkeys.
For the animal lovers, even the twisted ones. No monkey was injured as he was gone too quick and got away. Later that week though I remember cycling past the neighbour whose garden hose we all drank out of before going home, and he had two deep holes out of his forearm, just in the shape of the monkey teeth.
Little fucker was into BDSM.
True story.
