Hard Bite and Other Short Stories by Anonymous-9

Author:Anonymous-9
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-11T07:00:00+00:00

RETURN of the NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD MONKEY from SUNSET BOULEVARD

Judge, there’s a good reason I was trespassin’. It’s on account a my friend, see. He showed his mug in a talkie, way back when. That flick with the old movie-star broad creaking around a crumbling mansion on Sunset. A real movie director played the manservant, bald as an egg and stiff-backed as a Prussian general. Maybe youse remember? Saps and suckers can’t recall anything happened before last Tuesday, but standup guys like you n’ me, we remember, huh Judge?

The actor I’m referrin’ to, he played a corpse laid out on a massage table. One hairy arm swung down, limp as death, when the movie star pulled back his shroud. I guess by now ya got it figgered he was the monkey, right?

Since 1950 he’s been buried in the back yard ‘o dat rotten old mansion. I knows for real, see. His only company is a pair of goats next door. Yeah, goats. It’s an eco-freak thing; goats eat the grass insteada mowin’ it. Those dang goats are noise sensitive. The slightest thing sets ‘em off bleatin’ and baain’ all night.

Drama students useta love goin’ up that old place, practicin’ lines under the moon. But they disturbed the goats so much neighbors called the coppers. I had a hot tip a coupla them were goin’ up there, on account of it bein’ the anniversary of the monkey’s death. Which brings me to the legend of my story.

See, the old chimp knew he wuz goin’ ta kick the bucket, but said he was comin’ back. Return he called it. Alls he needed was a few magic words recited by a young, virgin actress, and he could spring back to life an’ take revenge on all those lousy Hollywood mokes that made him a star and then dropped him like a chump. He was a chimp, not a chump, dammit.

An’ now it’s been sixty-one years and tanight’s the night. If the magic line gets said by a virgin dollface over his grave at midnight, he’ll come back. The magic woids is the ones SHE spoke at the very end a the movie, “All right Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up.” What a dame! You hoid it before, didn’t cha Judge? Cause if ya can’t finish dat line by heart, yer nuthin’ but a patsy from Palookaville in my book. And if ya can finish it, yer a stand-up jake.

Anyways do I need ta tell ya how hard it is finding a virgin in Hollywood? It’s harder than gettin’ a clean piss-test from Charlie Sheen. Harder than the implants in Jenna Jameson’s chest. Harder than translatin’ Norse runes into Urdu. But I done it. I found her in a little acting class. Chickadee she calls herself. An’ I tole the whole class that a couple a C-notes was waitin’ if they showed up at the old place before midnight and ran lines from the movie.

It’s around eleven in the pee-em, and I’m already at the old mansion.

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