Dear Tim, I couldn't tell you to your face because I'm jsut too emotional right now. I'm leaving you and I won't be back. Well, i may think about coming back on one condition: You must call the wedding off now!! I just can't beat the thought of sharing you with another. i know she's much prettier than me and her hair is real and she can do many other things besides just play the cymbals! But I know you so much better than she does. our relationship goes way back, I stuck with you through thick and thin, throgh hell and high water, from ponytail to salt and pepper. I love you, man! I'm beggin you, I'd get down on my knees if I could, DON'T DO IT!!! If you decide to call it off send me a note care of Bonzo and leave it at the main reception desk. One of my other friends will pikc it up for me. I fyou decide to go through with this, will, all I can say is: Smell ya later! Your dear old friend, Cymbal MonkeyOkay, I know the note wasn't really from the monkey. The monkey is a much better writer than that and the monkey didn't know me when I had a ponytail. I figured the monkey paid off some of my co-workers and went off on a bender. He's done this before so I didn't think anything of it. The day before I left for my wedding I got another note:
Dear Tim, Here's a poem for you: No more carefree laughter Silence ever after. Walking through an empty house, Tears in my eys. Hear (sic) is where the story ends This is goodbye... memories: good days, bad days. They'll be with me always In these old fimiliar rooms Children would play. Now there's only emptiness, nothing to say. Boo hoo, Cymbal MonkeyOkay, I really know the monkey didn't write that crap. He's a cynical little bastard and he wouldn't be caught dead writing childish poetry like that. Plus, call him what you will, but the monkey can at least spell. I was a little pissed at this point, because the monkey owes me money. But I ignored the note and left for my wedding and honeymoon (locking my office to avoid anything else disappearing) figuring the monkey would be back when he sobered up. So I get back from my honeymoon and still no monkey.
Then a note shows up with photos of him hanging out at a commuter train station in California. I'm really pissed by this time because normally he just hangs out in Seattle when he goes out on a binge. The next day I get another note from him showing him out on the California desert with some family that took him in. I'm figuring, great, the monkey has duped some poor family with his "poor monkey" routine. He probably ate them out of house and home and then stole the family silver. He is a mean little cus.
Finally, he shows up yesterday in my bosses office (fortunately she wasn't in) with another note begging me to take him back in. I could tell from his glazed look he's been stoned for weeks. And he'd lost the stupid green pom pom he'd been wearing on his head since the Seahawks lost their playoff game. He tried to concoct some while tale about monkeynapping and spankings, but I just put him up on the shelf to sleep it off. So, if you go to his blog and he tries to feed you crap about where he has been, keep in mind that he is a pathological liar.