Saturday, June 26, 2004
i want everyone to know the big one is mean to me
he has taken my curious george books away for a week and i do not like him
he said it is my fault and he is mean. i was trying to make cocoa on the stove and a lot of smoke happened
he is mean
i want my books back
his wife is mean
she will not get me my books back
he farts a lot
i no longer like him
he will yell at me when he sees this but he left the thing on
he is mean
i peed on his pillow also
monsa hand not big stinky one
he has taken my curious george books away for a week and i do not like him
he said it is my fault and he is mean. i was trying to make cocoa on the stove and a lot of smoke happened
he is mean
i want my books back
his wife is mean
she will not get me my books back
he farts a lot
i no longer like him
he will yell at me when he sees this but he left the thing on
he is mean
i peed on his pillow also
monsa hand not big stinky one
Sunday, June 20, 2004
For days afterwards monsa hand was down. Not sad, just disappointed that "it" was not a true monster.
My wife and I decided he needed a big trip out. Well since the zoo incident I thought going back there might be problematic, so I figured the mall.
After going over all the rules about never getting off my shoulder or talking to anyone but my wife or I he promised me would be good. I believed that as far as I could throw my car, but he really needed a day out.
At 9 in the morning the Mall was mostly empty, but enough people I was still worried. We walked about and were enjoying ourselves greatly. The bulk candy store always puts him in a good mood so large amounts of money was spent on chocolates to his happiness.
I was dipping the scoop into the bin full of chocolate covered raisins. He liked them, until I told him they were really chocolate covered bugs. Hey! It was the only way for me to have chocolate in the house for personal use. The little furry guy eats chocolate like a vacuum cleaner.
But as I was saying . . .
I was bending over and scooping a "biggy" size amount into the bag when four needle sharp claws pierced my shoulder.
"AARRRRGGGGHHH!!" The scoop went flying, followed by a falling rain of raisinettes all over. The looks I got as I threw down a 10 dollar bill and ran out of the store with a fast "sorry" to the clerk was not helping the pain.
After exiting the store I reached under my jacket pulling a clenched monsa hand, with claws extended, off my shoulder.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" I looked him right into his eye as I said it then noticed he was frozen.
"Monsa? Are you OK?: He started to shake and quiver in my hand. I was not sure what was wrong with the little guy, but I was starting to get scared now, ignoring even the pain in my shoulder.
"Bi..bi...biggy. I...I..I smelled one." He looked up to me with his one eye pleading for help.
"One what?" I thought maybe I had farted.
At this he started to shake, but I could tell this was the same happy shake that happens when I bring new chocolate into the house. A happy internal shake.
"Another me, I mean another monsa. I did. I did. I smelled another one." His neck was twisting all around and he started climbing all over me trying to look all over at the same time and fine the other one. Acting fast, I figured someone in the store was carrying a monsa hand like I was so I went back into the candy store and walked by each person. I stood near each one until the small voice in my ear said "no". I repeated this until we ran out of people.
Telling him the person might have been walking by the store we went into the main area of the mall.
We found a bench and sat there for over four hours. He sat on my shoulder and sniffed until finally he gave up.
But even this failure of finding a monsa hand like him did not depress him. For you see. He now knew that there are others out there just like him, and he was going to find them.
My wife and I decided he needed a big trip out. Well since the zoo incident I thought going back there might be problematic, so I figured the mall.
After going over all the rules about never getting off my shoulder or talking to anyone but my wife or I he promised me would be good. I believed that as far as I could throw my car, but he really needed a day out.
At 9 in the morning the Mall was mostly empty, but enough people I was still worried. We walked about and were enjoying ourselves greatly. The bulk candy store always puts him in a good mood so large amounts of money was spent on chocolates to his happiness.
I was dipping the scoop into the bin full of chocolate covered raisins. He liked them, until I told him they were really chocolate covered bugs. Hey! It was the only way for me to have chocolate in the house for personal use. The little furry guy eats chocolate like a vacuum cleaner.
But as I was saying . . .
I was bending over and scooping a "biggy" size amount into the bag when four needle sharp claws pierced my shoulder.
"AARRRRGGGGHHH!!" The scoop went flying, followed by a falling rain of raisinettes all over. The looks I got as I threw down a 10 dollar bill and ran out of the store with a fast "sorry" to the clerk was not helping the pain.
After exiting the store I reached under my jacket pulling a clenched monsa hand, with claws extended, off my shoulder.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!" I looked him right into his eye as I said it then noticed he was frozen.
"Monsa? Are you OK?: He started to shake and quiver in my hand. I was not sure what was wrong with the little guy, but I was starting to get scared now, ignoring even the pain in my shoulder.
"Bi..bi...biggy. I...I..I smelled one." He looked up to me with his one eye pleading for help.
"One what?" I thought maybe I had farted.
At this he started to shake, but I could tell this was the same happy shake that happens when I bring new chocolate into the house. A happy internal shake.
"Another me, I mean another monsa. I did. I did. I smelled another one." His neck was twisting all around and he started climbing all over me trying to look all over at the same time and fine the other one. Acting fast, I figured someone in the store was carrying a monsa hand like I was so I went back into the candy store and walked by each person. I stood near each one until the small voice in my ear said "no". I repeated this until we ran out of people.
Telling him the person might have been walking by the store we went into the main area of the mall.
We found a bench and sat there for over four hours. He sat on my shoulder and sniffed until finally he gave up.
But even this failure of finding a monsa hand like him did not depress him. For you see. He now knew that there are others out there just like him, and he was going to find them.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
The search for other monsa hands of course started on the Internet. While I tried the standard searches nothing seemed to work. I was about to grow despondent that first night in front of the uncooperative computer when monsahand ran into the room screaming.
"I found one, I found one. It's on TV" His eye was shining like the whole world was suddenly good and all was well in the universe.
Well like the man who leaped from his bed and threw open the shutters I jumped and ran for the TV.
His yelling "Hurry hurry hurry" made me run down to the family room even faster then normal.
The second I saw the TV I knew that I had a hard job ahead of me. There, residing on the TV was "It" from the Adams family. Monsa was jumping up and down and hugging himself with happiness.
"See. See biggy. I found one. He looks funny, but he's a monsa hand. I know it"
The pure knowledge of youth was about the hit the grim reality of life.
"Come here little guy" I motioned to him and like a hyper active flash he was up on my shoulder looking at me with a smile that I knew would be so short lived.
"We need to talk". I gave him the fatherly tone and I saw a slight quiver in his smile. I reached up and scritched him gently and whispered to him "You really want him to be a monsa hand don't you?".
"But he is biggy. I just know" The smile had flattened out and was about to turn down.
I reached down and took the DVD controller into my hand and stopped the movie, I then started the special "making of" feature.
I sat and held him as they showed the hand model doing all of the work to make "it" come alive.
By the time the special section ended monsa was of course crying his heart out. I held him and scritched him as good as I could but he just needed , more then anything, time to cry. So I gave it to him.
After some words that we would find others, I hope, I took him and we made a special trip to the grocery where I let him pick the chocolate from the candy section. The little trip out helped him feel a little better but he was still hurting.
That night before he went to bed I made him his special hot cocoa that makes him feel warm and happy. I think it is the mini marshmallows.
That night after he went to bed I went and threw out one DVD into the trash.
"I found one, I found one. It's on TV" His eye was shining like the whole world was suddenly good and all was well in the universe.
Well like the man who leaped from his bed and threw open the shutters I jumped and ran for the TV.
His yelling "Hurry hurry hurry" made me run down to the family room even faster then normal.
The second I saw the TV I knew that I had a hard job ahead of me. There, residing on the TV was "It" from the Adams family. Monsa was jumping up and down and hugging himself with happiness.
"See. See biggy. I found one. He looks funny, but he's a monsa hand. I know it"
The pure knowledge of youth was about the hit the grim reality of life.
"Come here little guy" I motioned to him and like a hyper active flash he was up on my shoulder looking at me with a smile that I knew would be so short lived.
"We need to talk". I gave him the fatherly tone and I saw a slight quiver in his smile. I reached up and scritched him gently and whispered to him "You really want him to be a monsa hand don't you?".
"But he is biggy. I just know" The smile had flattened out and was about to turn down.
I reached down and took the DVD controller into my hand and stopped the movie, I then started the special "making of" feature.
I sat and held him as they showed the hand model doing all of the work to make "it" come alive.
By the time the special section ended monsa was of course crying his heart out. I held him and scritched him as good as I could but he just needed , more then anything, time to cry. So I gave it to him.
After some words that we would find others, I hope, I took him and we made a special trip to the grocery where I let him pick the chocolate from the candy section. The little trip out helped him feel a little better but he was still hurting.
That night before he went to bed I made him his special hot cocoa that makes him feel warm and happy. I think it is the mini marshmallows.
That night after he went to bed I went and threw out one DVD into the trash.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Well monsa hand is full grown and I now know the suffering parents go through.
You see. He started to go out on his own. Not just into the yard to fight the squirrels, but around the neighborhood. I tried to warn him about the bad things out there but he was so intent on doing it I just had to agree, plus the fact there was not much of a way to stop him.
I walked in the front door after a day at work and I could almost sense that something was wrong. My dear wife was sitting in the kitchen sipping a soda and looking very thoughtful.
"Hon? Is everything OK?" I sat down by her and from her body position I could tell she was horribly sad.
"It's monsa hand. He went out for more then a walk today." she whispered " He went to see if there were any other monsa hands out there and..Well...He didn't find any and is feeling really alone. I have tried to make him feel better but nothing works. Not even chocolate"
OMG! I knew one thing. When chocolate does not work, then things are really bad. For him chocolate can fix cuts, bruises, and hurt feelings. When it does not work it.. Well. I have to admit it has always worked. This worried me.
I walked into the basement slowly and saw him sitting on his favorite Curious George book and just looking at the pictures. Curious George books always made him feel better, and they obviously were not working this time,
"Monsa? You OK?" I sat down and put my leg out near him to help him crawl up on to me if he wanted.
Sniff "I'm OK biggy" I could tell he wasn't, but did not say anything, I just let him continue. " I just though there might be other monsa hands in the other houses and I looked in all of them around here and I cannot smell none in any of them" Sniff. He said this lying there so defeated. "I think I'm all alone"
"You know we will always be here right?"
A small nod was all I got in reply from him. He was feeling very alone and abandoned right now.
"Come here" with very little coaxing he scurried up and laid on my belly and I did the fatherly thing and started to scritch him.
"Monsa. I have to say that I have no idea where you came from, but I love you right?"
"Yeah?" he seemed almost confused.
"Would you like to know some other monsa hands out there?"
"Yes! But I looked and there aren't any out there."
"Hold on. The world is a very big place and there are a lot of places for little guys like you to be. Well then let us try to find where you came from and some other little furry guys like you. OK?"
He leaped up to his legs and a smile appeared on his face. "You'll help me find others like me?"
"Yes. Yes I will help you"
That was the day that I started the job of finding other little guys for him to play with, and feel less alone.
You see. He started to go out on his own. Not just into the yard to fight the squirrels, but around the neighborhood. I tried to warn him about the bad things out there but he was so intent on doing it I just had to agree, plus the fact there was not much of a way to stop him.
I walked in the front door after a day at work and I could almost sense that something was wrong. My dear wife was sitting in the kitchen sipping a soda and looking very thoughtful.
"Hon? Is everything OK?" I sat down by her and from her body position I could tell she was horribly sad.
"It's monsa hand. He went out for more then a walk today." she whispered " He went to see if there were any other monsa hands out there and..Well...He didn't find any and is feeling really alone. I have tried to make him feel better but nothing works. Not even chocolate"
OMG! I knew one thing. When chocolate does not work, then things are really bad. For him chocolate can fix cuts, bruises, and hurt feelings. When it does not work it.. Well. I have to admit it has always worked. This worried me.
I walked into the basement slowly and saw him sitting on his favorite Curious George book and just looking at the pictures. Curious George books always made him feel better, and they obviously were not working this time,
"Monsa? You OK?" I sat down and put my leg out near him to help him crawl up on to me if he wanted.
Sniff "I'm OK biggy" I could tell he wasn't, but did not say anything, I just let him continue. " I just though there might be other monsa hands in the other houses and I looked in all of them around here and I cannot smell none in any of them" Sniff. He said this lying there so defeated. "I think I'm all alone"
"You know we will always be here right?"
A small nod was all I got in reply from him. He was feeling very alone and abandoned right now.
"Come here" with very little coaxing he scurried up and laid on my belly and I did the fatherly thing and started to scritch him.
"Monsa. I have to say that I have no idea where you came from, but I love you right?"
"Yeah?" he seemed almost confused.
"Would you like to know some other monsa hands out there?"
"Yes! But I looked and there aren't any out there."
"Hold on. The world is a very big place and there are a lot of places for little guys like you to be. Well then let us try to find where you came from and some other little furry guys like you. OK?"
He leaped up to his legs and a smile appeared on his face. "You'll help me find others like me?"
"Yes. Yes I will help you"
That was the day that I started the job of finding other little guys for him to play with, and feel less alone.
Friday, June 04, 2004
While living with a monsa hand can be a bother, the same can be said for anyone with children. The difference is that children do not often get stuck in the vent.
I had just finished breakfast and was wondering if I should put off doing the dishes till tonight, or perhaps tomorrow. Procrastination is my middle name. I had just finished moving the dishes to the sink when I heard the first wail.
"Big one. Help!" I instantly knew who it was so I went downstairs where I could hear the voice.
When I got downstairs the cries for help were now coming from above me.
"This is not a funny joke Monsa hand!" I bellowed.
"No joke. Help! I'm stuck in the vent"
That explained it. The vent piping was below the floor and above my head.
So with an order to start tapping I began the hunt.
After I had removed four vent covers and two pipe lengths I found him.
He really had gotten himself tangled up. While going from one pipe to another he slipped and his leg got jammed between two connections keeping him well pinned. I could tell he was hurting and needing TLC so he got a lot of it.
Now normally when he gets into things he should not get into I would punish him by no TV or something but this time I let it slide.
While he is fearless against meercats, and squirrels are yard thieves to him, this time he really scared himself.
It would have been cruel to punish him again.
We found that he liked to use the vents, because when he was in them he did not feel so small like when in the big human world. He had found his own monsa hand road way.
So of course with a promise that he would be more careful in the future I let him keep using his own little roadway.
I had just finished breakfast and was wondering if I should put off doing the dishes till tonight, or perhaps tomorrow. Procrastination is my middle name. I had just finished moving the dishes to the sink when I heard the first wail.
"Big one. Help!" I instantly knew who it was so I went downstairs where I could hear the voice.
When I got downstairs the cries for help were now coming from above me.
"This is not a funny joke Monsa hand!" I bellowed.
"No joke. Help! I'm stuck in the vent"
That explained it. The vent piping was below the floor and above my head.
So with an order to start tapping I began the hunt.
After I had removed four vent covers and two pipe lengths I found him.
He really had gotten himself tangled up. While going from one pipe to another he slipped and his leg got jammed between two connections keeping him well pinned. I could tell he was hurting and needing TLC so he got a lot of it.
Now normally when he gets into things he should not get into I would punish him by no TV or something but this time I let it slide.
While he is fearless against meercats, and squirrels are yard thieves to him, this time he really scared himself.
It would have been cruel to punish him again.
We found that he liked to use the vents, because when he was in them he did not feel so small like when in the big human world. He had found his own monsa hand road way.
So of course with a promise that he would be more careful in the future I let him keep using his own little roadway.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
I had decided that monsa hand needed to see the world. He has been out twice, one on the wire shopping spree and the other time to Walgreen. Figuring out where to take him is a whole different thing. Monsa hand is sized like a small furry rodent so I have to be careful.
So I decided on the zoo. He could ride in my pocket and we could see some animals. Since he had a small picture of a tiger on his wall I knew that would make his day. The zoo trip was great. Monsa hand was ecstatic over what he saw. "Elephants are big" and "monkeys smell" were the types of comments my wife and I heard. He had crawled out of my pocket and was riding on my shoulder near the hood. He was hidden and still could talk to us.
The silence should have been the giveaway. "Monsa hand. What do you think about that meercat?" The lack of reply worried me. I did a quick patdown of myself and came to the only conclusion.
Monsa hand was on the loose.
Dang it. Dang it. Dang it.
I went one way and my wife went another, each in a silent panic. I only took about three steps before I saw him..or I should say heard him. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp" I turned and there he was. Like all young stupid kids he wanted to get close to the animals. So of course he climbed down me and went into the meercat area. There he stood, claws extended holding his own against two upset, territorial meercats. "Get you furry rear out here now" I bellowed.
As the two meercats paused to look at me bellowing, Monsa hand made a break and scurried to the edge and made an impressive leap to freedom. He then ran up me and slid back into my shirt pocket.
"That was fun" he said as he looked at me with a smile on his face. Now monsa hand is about the same size in relationship to a meercat as I am to an elephant.
"You could have gotten killed you dumb monster" and other comments were sent his way. All to no effect. Well my wife and I grounded him when we got home but the damage had been done. The world was big, full of stuff, and he wanted to see it all.
"It's hard to keep them on the farm when they have seen the lights of Paris" ran through my mind that night. Monsa hand had a whole world to see, and nothing could stop him.
So I decided on the zoo. He could ride in my pocket and we could see some animals. Since he had a small picture of a tiger on his wall I knew that would make his day. The zoo trip was great. Monsa hand was ecstatic over what he saw. "Elephants are big" and "monkeys smell" were the types of comments my wife and I heard. He had crawled out of my pocket and was riding on my shoulder near the hood. He was hidden and still could talk to us.
The silence should have been the giveaway. "Monsa hand. What do you think about that meercat?" The lack of reply worried me. I did a quick patdown of myself and came to the only conclusion.
Monsa hand was on the loose.
Dang it. Dang it. Dang it.
I went one way and my wife went another, each in a silent panic. I only took about three steps before I saw him..or I should say heard him. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp" I turned and there he was. Like all young stupid kids he wanted to get close to the animals. So of course he climbed down me and went into the meercat area. There he stood, claws extended holding his own against two upset, territorial meercats. "Get you furry rear out here now" I bellowed.
As the two meercats paused to look at me bellowing, Monsa hand made a break and scurried to the edge and made an impressive leap to freedom. He then ran up me and slid back into my shirt pocket.
"That was fun" he said as he looked at me with a smile on his face. Now monsa hand is about the same size in relationship to a meercat as I am to an elephant.
"You could have gotten killed you dumb monster" and other comments were sent his way. All to no effect. Well my wife and I grounded him when we got home but the damage had been done. The world was big, full of stuff, and he wanted to see it all.
"It's hard to keep them on the farm when they have seen the lights of Paris" ran through my mind that night. Monsa hand had a whole world to see, and nothing could stop him.
