A wee while ago (oh, about ten years now), I went to the movies. I went to see Meet Joe Black. I was expecting to see Mighty Joe Young. I didn't really want to see either. I spent the ENTIRE movie trying to figure out just how they were going to work a monkey into the plot line.
Was the monkey going to save Brad Pitt from being hit by a car? (By the way, that was the funniest moment in the movie…though I was the only one who laughed. It was just SO fake and I like seeing Brad Pitt get hit by cars apparently. Who knew?) Was the monkey going to show up at the party? Would that one guy stumble upon the monkey during a solitary, moody walk? No.
As the credits were getting ready to roll, I leaned over and asked my friend when the monkey was going to show up. The look she gave me made me repeat, ever so slowly, "When...will…the…monkey…show…up?" I sat there for several, long, tortuously boring hours only to see a whiny, weepy Brad Pitt. I've never forgiven him for not being a monkey.
An Erinku:
sunlight and
sprinkler
personal
rainbows
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