the birthday gorilla

(written roughly sept 18th, 2002: my golden birthday)

I woke up this morning to the sound of a giant pink gorilla being inflated in my front lawn. My parents let me sleep in for the first time in twelve years of public schooling, and I can only assume they've planned this as if to say "Remember that fever you faked in 6th grade? BAHAHA! WELCOME TO HELL," though I wouldn't put it past two 50-something suburban high school teachers to think "What better way to commemorate the birth of your only living daughter than by hiring some stoned jerk wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt to put King Kong's blow-up girlfriend in the yard?"

Her great white teeth are still covered in dust from storage, but she grins at me nevertheless, unaware she should be self conscious. The grass soaks the bottoms of my socks slowly, as I stand in front of her, slack-jawed. Is this the physical manifestation of love, or embarrassment? I step on her foot, testing the thickness of her magenta skin to see if stabbing the monstrosity with my car keys is an option, but
unfortunately she's been sewn together with the old tires (the kind her closest relatives are swinging on at the zoo).

I stare into her cartoonish blue eyes, adorned by three eyelashes each, and contemplate: could this be more awkward for you? I wonder what it's like to be a rentable joke. Grabbing her hand, which is rough and pulsing with the air being pumped into her, I feel an affinity with the bikini clad primate. I hoist myself up on her knee, throw my leg around the pit of her elbow and, after only slipping twice, sit on her shoulder. We look out over the neighborhood together, and I appreciate her company.

The Monkey and I let our embarrassment cancel the other's out, and for just a moment, I feel like I'm not alone in a world full of helium birthday greetings. "What a thing to identify with," I whisper in her ear, and her bouncing head affirms my suspicion that she feels the same way. "We're both losers," I sigh, pressing my entire face into her enormous, rough head, but jerk back immediately.

A revelation.


"They're going to make me take a picture with it"



I slide down and laid in the grass bemoaning my own existence before realizing I was being a cliche, and sullenly marched inside for an english muffin.