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I wake up naked next to an equally naked Harmony, still a little drunk, with the start of one hell of a hangover sending shooting pains behind my left eye. Sitting on the side of the bed, I fumble with the glass of water on the bedside table, sending half of it spilling onto the floor and the bed, cursing a blue streak and biting my tongue when I hear Harmony shift next to me, the blanket slipping down to reveal a nipple. She doesn't wake, just snores softly and curls onto my side of the bed.
Taking a sip of water, I shut my eyes again and will my headache to go the fuck away. It won't work, it never does, but still I try.
I don't think we fucked (I would remember it, given the number of times I jerked off to her in high school. And since, but that's besides the point), but ... my toe touches something soft, moist, and squishy.
I pry my eyes open again and look down. A used condom is lying next to Harmony's bra.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath and grab the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand table. I light one with shaking fingers, then toss the pack onto the bed and rest my head in my hands.
Harmony stirs again, rolling onto her back and stretching languidly. "What's shit, Harry?" She asks, voice still thick with sleep. Her eyes open, and she looks down at her bare tits and my naked ass.
Sitting up straight in bed, she pulls up the blanket. "I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me into getting dinner."
Blinking, I shake my head, trying to remember what the hell happened last night. "I remember dinner, after that … things get a bit blurry."
With a look of disdain honed since the time in seventh grade I accidentally walked into the girl's locker room after gym and saw more tits than my thirteen-year-old self could handle, Harmony grabbed the pack of cigarettes from me and shook one out.
"The monkey, Harry. Remember the monkey? Fuck, my director is going to kill me if I don't find that monkey." Harmony lights a cigarette, takes a deep drag, and bangs her head against the headboard. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, she checks her alarm clock. "Fuck. He's supposed to be here in an hour."
"There's still time to find a monkey at a pet store," I suggest. All monkeys kinda look alike.
"Harry, you can't just trade one monkey for another monkey. Fuck, I'm so screwed." She stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on her nightstand.
"Why not?" I ask her. "They all like bananas and have a long tail."
Harmony rolls her eyes and lights another cigarette, "Because it's a trained monkey."
"What is it trained to do?"
"Last week, he had her juggling. Fuck, I'm screwed Harry."
I hand her the bottle of Jack, and she takes a long swallow and hands the bottle back. I take an equally long swallow. "I think we fucked last night," I say to break the silence.
"I'm wetter than an LA February. Of course we fucked. Unless you shot your load early and I had to jack off."
A crash comes from the living room, and Harmony and I exchange looks as she grabs her Wondergirl baseball bat and I grab the mostly empty bottle of Jack sitting on the nightstand table.
The monkey's cage door is swinging open, and the door to the patio is cracked; a trail of wood shavings leads to his diaper hanging off the edge of her porch. Guess we managed to catch the little fucker last night. Even if the time between midnight and four is a little hazy.
We reach the patio door just in time to see the little fucker scamper across the bike path and toward the closest palm tree.
Some jackass tourist manages to snap a picture of me and Harmony standing in front of the patio door naked as we watch the director's monkey nimbly scale the palm tree I know about the pictures because Perry gleefully points to them whenever I suggest that I am capable of going undercover. But the State of California agrees with me: they gave me a shiny certificate and everything.
By gleefully pointing them out, I mean he pulls out that issue of the National Enquirer and a bottle of Scotch from a desk drawer. The front page has me and Harmony naked -- tits, pussy, and dick pixilated out -- alongside a photo of me climbing out of a palm tree wearing her thong and carrying a monkey. It's a shame they pixilated out my dick and Harmony's tits, because my dick is very nicely proportioned and Harmony's tits deserve to have odes written about them. The byline alluded to unnatural acts involving said monkey.
Shit, I went off on a tangent again. Why was Harry climbing a tree wearing Harmony's thong? you ask. Well, this is why.
We stand for a moment, watching the monkey throw nuts at gawking tourists below. "You better get that monkey out of the tree," Harmony says, picking her thong up from the living room floor and tossing it at me. I look around for my boxers; they're on the couch, but sadly the crotch is torn out.
"Why me? It's your fucking monkey."
"It's not my fucking monkey, and if you hadn't jumped me in the living room last night, I would have locked the fucking cage."
"But the monkey is your responsibility," I wheedle, glancing toward her bedroom where my jeans are.
"And if you don't get up that fucking palm tree in the next five minutes, the fire department is going to rescue the monkey, and I'm still fucked."
"But ..." I scratch the back of my neck.
"Harry, put on the thong, and go get that fucking monkey. Otherwise, I'm going to tell you all about the time I fucked Cho Chutney."
I put on the thong and run out the door.
The palm's trunk is hard and rough under my feet and hands as I climb it, the monkey throwing nuts onto the top of my head and jumping lightly from frond to frond the whole time. Pulling away the dead fronds at the top of the palm tree, I reach for the little fucker just as it makes a leap for the ground.
I catch it. "Hands of fucking magic," I hear Dexter say in my head as I catch it by the back of its stupid-ass coat.
By the time I get down the palm tree, a throng of tourists and news cameras have gathered. Guess it must be a slow news day if they're interested in watching a man wearing a thong escort a monkey down a palm tree. Or some sort of human interest news story shit.
We manage to get the monkey back inside the apartment and into its cage, just barely getting dressed before Harmony’s director shows up to collect said monkey.
I'm brushing dead palm frond out of my hair as he looks at us, raises his eyebrows, and hands Harmony a check. "I don't want to know. I'll send my people to collect her cage later this afternoon. See you on the set Monday, Harmony."
"Thank Christ that's over," I say as the door slams shut. "So, about what happened earlier ..."
“I’m going to the bank to cash this check before he figures out that the monkey escaped and cancels it.”
“What about me?” I ask.
“You’re going to go home and change into something that doesn’t smell like a bar floor. Then you’re going to take me out to dinner with cloth napkins and food other than hamburgers.” Harmony puts on her shoes, gives my cheek a light kiss and holds the door open for me.
“Sounds like a square deal.”
finis