Perspective

Recently, writers have attempted to refresh old stories by changing up the perspective. Rewriting the Cinderella fairy tale from the perspective of the wicked step-mother, or having the Big Bad Wolf tell about the Three Little Pigs and Red Riding Hood is interesting as long as a child has already heard the original. Trisha Speed Shaskan has a cute idea, but she is far from the first to tell "the other side of the story."

Many years ago an author whose name has been lost to history, wrote a tongue-in-cheek rebuttal to Darwin's theory of evolution.

My dad owned a plaque with this poem when my brother and I were very young. He may have gotten it when he was in the Army in 1954. In 2010, someone who doesn't identify himself wrote a blog tribute to the poem and included excerpts from letters to Dear Abby wherein the writers claimed this person or that person actually wrote it. If I could find Dad's plaque, which may have been broken years ago, it might mention an author. Memory says it gives the credit to Anonymous. I know Someone Somewhere wrote it at least sixty-five years ago.
  
The Monkeys Disgrace

Three monkeys sat in a coconut tree
Discussing things as they're said to be.
Said one to another, "Now listen, you two,
There's a certain rumor that cannot be true,
That man descends from our noble race -
The very idea is a disgrace.

No monkey ever deserted his wife,
Starved her babies and ruined her life;
And you've never known a mother monk
To leave her babies with others to bunk,
Or pass them on from one to another
Til they scarcely know who is their mother.

And another thing you'll never see -
A monk build a fence around a coconut tree
And let the coconuts go to waste,
Forbidding all other monks to taste.
Why, if I put a fence around this tree,
Starvation would force you to steal from me.

Here's another thing a monk won't do -
Go out at night and get on a stew,
Or use a gun or club or knife
To take some other monkey's life;

Yes, Man Descended - That ornery cuss -
But, brother, he didn't descend from us!"
     - anonymous

reference:
http://lvtfan.typepad.com/lvtfans_blog/2010/02/the-monkeys-disgrace.html

Were-Monkey

Our town has a railroad track which has been blocking the flow of Main Street traffic for decades. For as many years, people have been saying the train is going to prevent someone from getting to the hospital one of these days. The railroad people claim the train can clear the tracks quicker on its regular schedule than they can stop it and separate the cars. So far, I don't think anyone has died while waiting for the train to rumble through town.

One day when the kids were small, we were held up by the train as we were leaving town. Traffic had backed up a couple of blocks with the train just sitting there. 

It was hot, the kids were hungry, and they were fussing at each other in the back seat. One block to the left lies an establishment we've never visited. This might be the day.

"Hey, Daddy. Do you want to spend fifteen minutes in the P-E-T  S-T-O-R-E?" I spelled.

He gave me a horrified look at the same time a particularly loud altercation arose from behind.

"Sure."  He wheeled away from the line of hapless motorists and drove to the pet store.

I had been afraid we'd find kittens and puppies, guppies and gerbils in the shop. We already had plenty of cats and dogs on the farm. I had no intention of letting any beseeching little faces talk me into house pets whose care would fall on me.

Fortunately, the shop, which emitted a distinctly animal aroma, was fresh out of cuddly varieties. There was a python in a glass aquarium. Since Daddy is terrified of snakes, they knew not to ask. We also saw two monkeys. One was in a glass enclosure, and the other was in a wire cage.

I got the impression that the glass was to protect the public from the monkey. I didn't see any warning signs on any of the cages. Little did I know.

We were looking around, with me wondering how lucrative a pet store could be, when I noticed my three-year-old daughter peering at the monkey in the wire cage. Before I could say, "Honey, don't stick your fingers in that cage," she already had.

A remarkably fast monkey leaped across the cage and latched onto her little index finger like it was an appetizer for the mid-day meal. She let out a howl and jerked her hand back. Fortunately, all of it was still attached.

The proprietor assured us the animal had all its vaccines and scolded us for not watching our children. We could hear the train moving and decided we'd seen all we needed at the pet store. On the way home, we discussed whether we should take her to the doctor/emergency room. Instead, we decided to stop at Grandma's house and put some antibiotic and a band-aid on her finger. 

Within a day we learned that monkey had bitten practically everyone in the county who had visited the store. I thought it was reasonable to wonder why the attack monkey wasn't the one behind glass.

She didn't get sick, or lose her finger, or have nightmares about being bitten. However, until she turned nine or ten, she grew a long tail and swung from the light fixtures during a full moon. At least, that's what her daddy told her.