part two from
Eight Ways to Say It
emily liechty




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My grandfather was in the army during the Second World War. There is this box of his stuff in my grandmother's top dresser drawer full of all kinds of things--weird money, medals, bits of metal and old black and white pictures. In one of the pictures, my grandfather is standing in front of a low gray building holding a monkey and smiling. The monkey was his pet. Real little thing, I think it was a spider monkey or something, but you know, it could have been anything. This monkey was a favorite of the men; it would chatter away, smoke cigarettes, take little sips out of my grandfather's beer and grin. Sometimes the soldiers would give him some cards to hold and that monkey would sit there in the barracks looking like the perfect card shark. God, how the men would laugh, my grandfather said that it was the funniest thing you ever saw, this little monkey just sitting there, cards in one hand, cigarette in the other. My grandfather got in the habit of carrying this monkey with him everywhere he went and, one day, when he was carrying the monkey through camp, a commanding officer saw it. Well this guy, he was some sort of general,was bored and the monkey grabbed his attention. He came over to see "what the little bugger could do," as he put it. My grandfather had been trying to train the monkey to salute for about a week and that morning things had gone pretty well. My grandfather would say "salute" and up that little paw would go. So this general wants to see what the monkey can do and my grandfather decides to go for the gold. He puts the monkey on his shoulder, stands real straight and tall and then orders the monkey to salute his commanding officer. Well it was a new trick and the monkey wasn't all that smart and I guess he got confused. Instead of saluting he pissed right on that general, all over the front of his dress uniform, monkey piss dripping off all those medals and ribbons, I guess he just got nervous. "Jesus Christ, Private!" the general screamed, "is that your idea of a joke?!" My grandfather said he had never seen anyone get so red in the face. The general informed my grandfather that he had two choices; either the general would shoot the monkey and my grandfather would spend the next 3 weeks on K.P. or my grandfather would shoot the monkey, clean his weapon, and count himself lucky to get off so easy. So my grandfather shot the monkey, he did it right then and there.