Monkey and Blueberry

These are the equations schools never teach you:

Monkey + Fizzy drinks → Dotty baboon + Catastrophe

Catastrophe ≠ LOL + Fun

Catastrophe = Victim Sandy Baker + New headlines for school’s e-news + A Happy Baboon

I slam the ice box close, “You’ve had three. And that’s-”

“So not enough!” Gregory jerks at the ice box roughly, trying to open it himself, “Come on. Professor Downey put you here to sell the drinks, not huffing and spitting around choosing your customers.”

I frown, “I didn’t huff and spit, darn it.” I pry away his hands.

“Just one more Coke. ONE more. I’m paying after all, so what’s your problem, darn it?”

“You gonna get me in trouble, that’s the problem, darn back.”

Snapping his head up so that he’s facing the sky, Gregory stumbles a few steps back, shaking his fist in the air. This, is a typical monkey that’s on a sugar high, and this, is also why, nobody fancies being around sugar-overdosed monkeys. They are dotty. Completely and utterly dotty.

A new customer approaches. “Coke,” the boy nods at the icebox, catching the attention of Gregory, who snaps his head right back down, a grin slowly taking over his face. I can’t help but stare at the student’s triple chins.

I snap out of it, feeling a little guilty, and yanking the icebox open, I dig around for the drink but the student holds up his hand, “Ah, no. I want the bottle one. That big bottle over there.” He points, totally ignorant to the giggly monkey beside him.

My whole body tenses, and thealarm in my brain goes off. I feel like punching Gregory right in his face.

A giggly Gregory is fine. But a giggly Gregory OPENLY grinning at my customer’s pot belly is NOT fine. NOT fine AT ALL.

I stand rooted to the spot, and watch in a slow motion horror as Gregory steps forth, reaches out a hand, and tentatively, he pokes at the boy’s belly button, before bursting into peals of hysterical laughter, earning the attention of the other students around.

My customer jumps in surprise, and my reflex is quick to kick in. I hold up a hand, “I don’t know this guy. I really don’t. I got nothing to do with him.”

Gregory waves dismissively, and walking away from the boy, he stumbles to the front of my stall. The monkey nudges my arm, “Mamma mia, Swiss Roll, your customer is so fat that when he jumps into the ocean he’s gonna send Moby Dick RIGHT to the FREAKIN MOON jeeeeeez- DOUBLE JEEZ.”

Okay, that was so not cool. And downright rude.

“I don’t even know him, really.” I smile nervously at the boy while pointing at Gregory. And that’s exactly when I notice the boy’s beet red cheeks. And his balled up fists.

“He’s as round as a blueberry!” Gregory goes on, hollering and giggling like mad and his cheeks redder than the boy’s. “And cute like a sluggggg…”

“Would you shut it!” I shove his temple, temporarily cutting off his nonsense babbling.

“So you DO know him? This monkey?” the customer spits bitterly.

Apparently, it’s publicly recognized that Gregory’s a monkey.

“No I don’t,” I insist.

Scoffing loudly, Blueberry walks towards us.

“You notice he walks like a penguin?” Gregory nudges me again, his goofy grin growing wider.

What in the world is WRONG with this monkey?

Tearing my fiery glare away from the monkey’s face, I turn back to face Blueberry and … just to have Blueberry pour his Cola drink down on me and Gregory. I didn’t even see him coming. And I wasn’t even given the time to pull a horrified face.

It took five seconds for me to realise that I’m soaked from head to toe.

The top three things I loathe with passion:
1. Surprise attack
2. Getting punished for what I didn’t do
3. Getting drenched

That Blueberry Fatso is so doomed.

Snatching a soda can, I hurl it at Blueberry. The can hits his belly, and for a moment, it seems to be a good revenge, but then the soda can bounces right off his elastic pot belly and drops onto the ground weakly, rolling right back to my feet.

Gregory gasps from behind.

“Hakuna Matata, Swiss Roll.” Gregory pats my back. “Hakuna Matata! Watch ME!” And with that, he leaps over to the ice box and digs up a large bottle of Sprite, and shaking it up and down ferociously, he then aims it at Blueberry.

He gives an unexpected shriek, and in his own dramatic way, he slowly twists the cap of the bottle. The contents shoot right out.

He should’ve held it firmly and let the soda hit Blueberry right in the face, but no, the moment the soda bursts out, Gregory yelps and his hands flew up, sending the bottle up into the air and causing the other students to back off quickly.

The bottle hits the ground, and we all watch in tragic silence as the remaining soda flows onto the gravel.

I punch his shoulder, “You nincompoop!”

“What the fuck? I tried, okay? It flew into the air itself!”

“You mean, YOU threw it into the air, bozo!” I glare at him unbelievably.

“To hell with that, you ungrateful brat! I was trying to pull a revenge for you!” Gregory throws up his hands.

“We wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for you and your stupid moon theory, monkey.” I practically yell.

“Hey that wasn’t a theory it was a fact! A FACT!”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Blueberry moving towards us and honestly, I’m rather surprised when Gregory the monkey shoots out a hand and makes a grab for another soda can and before I could even blink, the monkey had hurled the soda can right at Blueberry’s face. A few yelps from the crowd. A loud thud.

Blueberry’s eyes roll back and he drops to the ground.

My mouth falls open, while Gregory claps for himself and bows, “It’s fine. I know I’m awesome too.”

My eyes widen, “Awesome, your butt! You bampot, you just committed a crime! You killed him!”

I don’t know why I said that, course Blueberry isn’t dead, but I guess a part of me just wanted Gregory to be scared of what he’s done.

“Why, would you rather be the one who got killed? This guy is enormous, I tell you, and with a subtle wave of a hand he could-”

It’s Gregory’s turn to drop to the ground.

“Knock someone out,” Blueberry finishes the sentence for Gregory, sniggering.

Just a second ago, I was still wondering how is it that one could manage to defeat a giant monster with just one soda can but now, consider it answered. It’s impossible, that’s the stupid answer.

“Right,” Blueberry stalks forward slowly, taking his time. “Pop his pimples, huh?”

I retreat, “What?”

He lets out a laugh, “Aw don’t play innocent! I heard you. ‘Shoot his pimples, Gregory! Shoot him! Attack!’”

“I didn’t say that!”

Did I?

“Nah course you didn’t. You didn’t just say it, you were YELLING about it like a crazy fangirl. ‘Shoot him, Gregory! Aim for those goddamn pimples! Yeah attaboy! Shoot now!’”

“I certainly did NOT say that!” I scowl. At least I don’t think I did. I didn’t … right?

Blueberry takes one last step and stops right in front me, the stall being the only thing between us, and the students around simply stay where they are, staring and whispering and not bothering to step in to help.

Blueberry stays motionless for quite a while, and it’s nerve-wrecking and so the moment he starts a move, I snap to an automatic response by grabbing anything that’s near me and I swing it across the air. My weapon whacks Blueberry on the head and a vibration spreads throughout my arm due to the impact. Then for the second time, Blueberry drops to the ground.

Wait, a vibration?

I look down at the thing in my hand. I’d thought it was just a soda can or whatever but it isn’t.

It’s a freakin cash box. And it’s metal. It’s FREAKIN METAL.