El Mono Diabólico
Aside from the intriguing sense of age about the place, the thing I remember most about the St. Anthony is the Monkey of Darkness.
When we first arrived at the hotel, we parked the car and then trudged with our bags down the long, ornately-decorated Peacock Alley promenade toward the front desk. Just before the transition between Peacock Alley and the reception area, to the right of the doorway, sits the 5'5" tall Monkey.
Carved from wood and stained a dark reddish brown, the Monkey slouches insouciantly atop an old tree stump. In his right hand, he holds a platter extended toward the visitor as if to offer an hors d'oeuvre or perhaps a wafer-thin mint; but with his left, high above his head, he struggles to maintain his grip on a hungry carrion bird. Open-mouthed and white-eyed, his face is framed by wild hair and a broad brimmed hat.
Why are the Monkey's eyes white? Did the bird snatch them? I doubt it. Monkey looks just a little too relaxed for someone who's just had his eyes plucked out.
Are they rolled back in his head like those of some frothing, demonic psychopath? Is he some kind of undead Monkey? In the movies, undead frequently have cloudy white eyes.
Whatever his story, my pulse and my pace quickened a bit each time I had to walk past the Monkey.
I suppose the bug suits must be used to liven things up during readings of Joyce's books. At least, I hope so. The only other explanation I can come up with is that these are accessories for transpestites.
Either way, if this is what the fashionable reader is wearing for story hour, today's kids must be mentally tougher than when I was going to story hour down at the library. These things would have given me nightmares for sure.
Of course, if I'd been able to get my hands on that roach get-up the Hallowe'en I dressed as a nun, I wouldn't have those blasphemy charges on my permanent record.
7 comments:
I don't like that monkey. My mother-in-law gave me a really nice Santa this past Christmas and the first night when I was up late on the pooter (that's "computer" in case someone (Susie) thinks it's the potty) and I just got a little frightened of it. That whole "Chuckie" thing came to mind.
Ah, good. I was afraid the whole thing about the monkey carving was just me.
There have been several times that I've thought of e-mailing the hotel to see if someone knows the history of that statue. But then again, I'm not sure I really want to know.
Hi Foo....I am here because Susie says you are fun. You are!
When we were at our New Years Eve Party last night the host/hostess' house was decorated with the animal trophies of the host's hunting prowess. I usually don't really care for those type of things, but it was decorated very tastefully....anway there were two bobcats that kept freaking out one of the guests. She swore she saw one's mouth move and left shortly after that.
Isn't it weird what things freak us out? Whooodathunk a monkey?
I came over here from reading Susie's post! We're almost neighbors, maybe it's my internet!
Susie: you really know how to crank up the pressure to perform, don't you? Trial by fire. People actually reading this stuff. Gad.
I started this blog as the result of a thread over on the bikejournal.com forum, but those folks don't read it. Ironic, no?
Aunt Josefina: welcome to my stream of conciousness, but let's don't make too big a fuss about that 'fun' business. I wouldn't want my curmudgeon certification revoked.
Ivy: howdy, neighbor. As to it being your internet, I expect you'll have to get in line behind Al Gore.
Blasphemy charges??
The GOD POLICE got you eh??? LOL
That monkey carving looks totally possessed! Eeee. Definitely not my kind of decoration/art.
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