(this was written a few months ago, I'm sure its unfinished, just found it on an old file, not sure of my original intent here.)
They were like two monkeys fighting over a banana. One made a move, the other countered it. A simple gesture of taking off some dog tags from around ones neck, the the opposition jumps into action, a challenge met. He throws his arm around the others neck, pulling him back out of his chair. The other pushes himself up and throws his lefts over the back of the futon they sit on. And this makes the balance of weight tilt, and they fall off to the side, off the edge of their couch. With a thud they land, in a 69 position like two gay monkey lovers, but instead of erotic stimulation, they are gripping at eachothers necks, while trying to push the pressure off their own. And there they sit, a short challenge met, by a short fight. More like two retarded monkeys vying for dominance, on the floor in that position, each face in the others jeaned crotch. A stalemate, of heavy breathing, one shirtless, both fools. Laughter emerges from one throat to the other, a admittance of ridiculousness, and slowly grips are released, and the shirted monkey jumps up with the most idiotic grin one could imagine, the kind that eats shit. And the shirtless monkey stands now to backing up slightly, maybe too much adrenaline disorienting his stance he stumbles, him to with one of those smiles, though not as vaudevillian as the shirted monkeys grin. They look at each other, and laugh, while onlookers shake their heads in disapproval and condemning moves, wondering what the hell was the point of that, worried that something could get broken, over some animalistic instance for one monkey to get a banana from the other monkey.
They were like two monkeys fighting over a banana. One made a move, the other countered it. A simple gesture of taking off some dog tags from around ones neck, the the opposition jumps into action, a challenge met. He throws his arm around the others neck, pulling him back out of his chair. The other pushes himself up and throws his lefts over the back of the futon they sit on. And this makes the balance of weight tilt, and they fall off to the side, off the edge of their couch. With a thud they land, in a 69 position like two gay monkey lovers, but instead of erotic stimulation, they are gripping at eachothers necks, while trying to push the pressure off their own. And there they sit, a short challenge met, by a short fight. More like two retarded monkeys vying for dominance, on the floor in that position, each face in the others jeaned crotch. A stalemate, of heavy breathing, one shirtless, both fools. Laughter emerges from one throat to the other, a admittance of ridiculousness, and slowly grips are released, and the shirted monkey jumps up with the most idiotic grin one could imagine, the kind that eats shit. And the shirtless monkey stands now to backing up slightly, maybe too much adrenaline disorienting his stance he stumbles, him to with one of those smiles, though not as vaudevillian as the shirted monkeys grin. They look at each other, and laugh, while onlookers shake their heads in disapproval and condemning moves, wondering what the hell was the point of that, worried that something could get broken, over some animalistic instance for one monkey to get a banana from the other monkey.
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