Wednesday, October 13, 2010

More Ape-Shit (Conclusion)


I snap him up for a steal at twenty-five quid.

(If you missed the start of this, please feel free to scroll down a post.. )

Oooooh I’m so, so excited, I’m virtually beside myself, and can barely wait to cart him home.  ‘Cept, um, I hardly reckoned on doing that literally.

"What do you mean, you don't deliver?"

(I ask you, who waltzes off with a seven foot, stuffed gorilla tucked under their arm?)

"Sorry. Don't you girls have some means of transport?"

(Ha, like a two seater sports car is likely hack it.  We sure could make good use of a van, but living as I do only a mere hundred yards along the way, it seems ludicrous to go to all the trouble of hiring one.) 

Smiling sweetly, eyes batting, I give it my best shot, “How about if we make you a nice cup of tea..?"

"I've already got a girlfriend."

(Indignantly) "Sure, and as if I fancied the likes of you, anyway!"

Defeated, I turn to plan two - the wondrous Nettie.  "Fancy giving me a hand?"

"No fecking way."

(Ungrateful urchin, is that any way to talk to your boss?)

"I'll pay you."

"Stuff yer money.  A day off."


"I want me life back.."

(Oh shite, so that’s her game.  She strikes a hard bargain, that one.  Earlier in the week I'd vetoed her bunking off work for a long weekend jaunt to Glastonbury.)

“..And a ride to the station!”

A little negotiation later, Nettie metamorphoses in to my fairy of good fortune, setting about harassing Mr-Loved-Up-With-A-Girlfriend to lend us his trolley.  (Now, when I say a trolley, I mean this in the loosest of terms.  It has two wheels and a platform, with a pair of extended metal bars to grab and steer it by.)

“Aw c’mon now,” say’s she, “We’ll have it back to you within the hour, tops! ”

As we still have that massive dining table and eight chairs stacked and waiting to be lugged home, it's unlikely we’ll do a runner, so he gracious(less)ly concedes to release it to us.

It takes all three of us to load him up, me holding the trolley, and both Mr. Loved-Up-With-The-Girlfriend and Nettie to lift him on board.  Facing him out and tipped backwards, and with Nettie charged to keep him in place, we stagger out to the street and slap bang into the rush hour.

It might not have been so bad if it were not for all those bumpy kerbs along the way.  The pavement proves impossible to navigate, and he almost immediately bounces off the contraption, to land up sprawled mid-way across the the Lower Richmond road, bringing all the traffic to an instant halt. 

Talk about embarrassing.  

A couple of bewildered drivers eventually help out.  It draws quite a crowd.

From here on out we wisely keep to the more level surface of the road, blithely ignoring all the blaring horns and accompanying wise-cracks as we go. Painstakingly, we steer him along the route towards my end of terraced house, and with much relief, eventually make it safely home.


I chose to christen him Peter, because he bore a striking resemblance to an old friend of mine, Peter-the-Bouncer.  Way, way back in my days of living in penury, at the tender age of nineteen, I’d worked weekends as a Bunny Girl at Stringfellow’s club, “Rockafella’s”.  Peter had worked the floor there as our appointed guardian angel, swiftly ejecting any would be groper’s and troublesome drunks who chanced their luck.  I thought his name a perfect choice to bestow upon my lovely new friend.

As time passed, Peter took on a personality all of his own.  He lived in the hall, earning his keep by minding the coats and hats of visiting friends.   He also joined in at every party I threw, held his own drink, and always dressed beautifully for each occasion.  He obligingly posed for photographs with all and sundry, each of which I lovingly collected and pasted into his own personal photograph album.

Everyone loved Peter, so much so, he sometimes boarded out when I went away.  Several friends occasionally took it in turns to house him over my absences, good-naturedly carting him half-way across London (strapped to the roof of a car) so as he could enjoy his own little adventures outside of home.

He always sent me a postcard (as I also did to him), all of which were saved and used to paper the far corner of his abode, providing a lovely record of our various mis-adventures and happy exploits.

(Personally, I think some of his claims were wildly exaggerated, but I never called him on it.)

Peter and I lived in harmony together for over eight blissful years.  I’d planned on us growing old side-by-side, and of spending our twilight days in the comfort of a mutual companionship, swapping a fond memory and the occasional mothball between us.

Alas, this proved not to be.

Another (far more treacherous) male entered my life, one I promised to wed.  We bought a new home together, and I placed my own up for sale.  Peter and I, plus all our other worldly goods, moved into the new abode, looking forward to beginning this exciting new chapter in our lives.

We (my intended and I)  never did make it up the aisle. 

After the break-up, I made a quick exit, leaving with little more than my clothes, I intended to return for the remainder of my things once the dust had settled.  In the interim, My Ex reset the code on the burglar alarm, denying me  access.  Not that that stopped me of course, but when I couldn’t re-set the sodding alarm, the police soon did. 

They told me it was a civil matter, possession being nine-tenths of the Law and all that.  Besides, by now my Ex had obligingly arrived with several buddies in tow.

Sure, I could have pursued it, but frankly sometimes it's easier to just walk away.  

He may have kept Peter, my photographs, and virtually everything else I once owned, but at least I left with my dignity and self-worth   intact. 

So I took my old place off the market, and (at the disgust of my solicitor) agreed to sign my share of the new one over to him.  Considering all, it was a small price to pay for his riddance.

Well, almost so..  were it not for the loss of my dearest Peter.



Kate said...

Sad tale***sniffle***Peter sounds like the perfect companion. A dapper dresser, a cocktail connoisseur and he doesn't talk too much. Probably laughed at all your jokes, too. Sorry you lost him. I wish I could see some of the photos. Thanks for the tale, dear.

Jinksy said...

This spot of monkey business was right up my street! Thanks for an entertaining afternoon reading the whole saga! LOL :)

Hilary said...

This was hilarious. I could just picture Peter's presence at all your events. Such a shame that you lost him and so much else but at least you ditched the ex.

nick said...

Somewhere along the way, I missed something. Peter was your ex-boyfriend, or ex-ape? Or were the two interchangeable. I get confused easily.

Bathwater said...

Some one should kidnap Peter again! After all possession is 9/10's of the law.

Rock Chef said...

I love that! I made it even funnier for my tired self by failing to realise that you had switched back to talking about the gorilla - why was it such an achievement for a bouncer to hold his own drink! My younger brother used to be a bouncer and even HE can manage that!

Why are some guys such arseholes?

And I have never known a bunny girl before - good job you had someone to look after you.

Kit Courteney said...


Just the tonic after a day of stress!

Heff said...

Let that be a lesson to us ALL (especially men).


mythopolis said...

Wait a minute! We got a seven foot gorilla and a bunny girl?! I feel a movie deal coming on. Please have your people call my people immediately!

Pat Tillett said...

GREAT story!
I was really warming up to Peter until I saw him with a hated Yankee hat on...
I really like this story...

chewy said...

What's Peter doing wearing a Yank's cap? (shove)

Boo-hiss to your bastard of an ex. grr... I guess the lesson learned is... rent a truck BEFORE breaking up with boyfriend.


I am absolutely heart broken at the loss of your Peter...and you can take that any way you'd like.

BRUNO said...

Now I feel bad for makin' you bawl!!! Almost made ME cry, too!(Dammit, now I've got little "eye-buggers" from the tears!)

Well, whether ya' got a Peter, or not---it STILL made one helluva good story!

Sharing a mothball, eh? Valentine-Day material, for sure! Man, that should qualify for one of our premium Hallmark-brand "occasion"-cards....!

Portia said...

I'm so sorry your ex took Peter from you! Sounds quite drastic to leave with almost none of your possessions but glad your dignity was intact!

Scott from Oregon said...

Surely you can facebook-look-up some old friends who have lots of Peter pics and share?????

You should have sent Peter the bouncer bouncing over to get your stuff with his bouncy mates....

Leslie: said...

How do you lose 200 lbs? Kick him out! That's what I did...Peter sounds like the perfect mate - quiet, polite, doesn't stink up the bathroom or leave whiskers in the sink, et al. Come on by to see my post on "mismatched." There's lots more between the lines! grrr

Ami said...

Let this be a lesson to you... always keep track of your Peter.

The Blue Zoo said...

Aw! Well Poo! Poor Peter got stuck with the Ex. I hope the Ex tripped over Peter and broke a leg, or at least a toe. =)

TechnoBabe said...

The ex didn't deserve Peter. But your gracious acceptance of the situation is part of what makes you a great lady. This has been a fun story.

Akelamalu said...

Peter sounds a much nicer companion than the fella you broke up with! Shame you couldn't get him back.

mrsnesbitt said...

Peter sounds like the perfect guy to sit and chat with when drunk! Yep - no need even to share the bottle with him lol! Love to Sam. Dxxx

Sniffles and Smiles said...

Oh, Carol...What a heartbreaking story!!!! I'm so sorry that you lost Peter!!!! What a horrible jerk your "intended" must have been!!!! That's just awful!!!! But what a wonderful story about Peter!!!! I loved this!!! Everyone should have a Peter!!!! Love you!!! Janine XO

Nancy said...

Ghaaa - what an arse to keep Peter!!

The vision of you bouncing along on the street with Peter will give me a smile for the rest of the day.

simon said...

why did the mnkey run around with bacon and eggs on his head?

HE thought he was a griller...ahahaha get it griller?? Gorilla!! AHAHAHAHAHA!

simon said...

mnkey!!! mOnkey! sorry

secret agent woman said...

Seems like Peter is a symbol now - the scarfice you had to make to get rid of someone who was so bad for you. I'm sorry for that, but glad you got out.

Sabi Sunshine said...

Everytime I see Ape i always remember the movie Planet of the Apes. It is really good movie.

Have a great weekend!


Suldog said...

I finally had a chance to sit down and read this conclusion. Damn it, that's not fair! The bastard of an ex got Peter? Just not fair, in any way, shape, or form.

Great story, though.

Land of shimp said...

Uh...Peter wasn't actually a real, stuffed gorilla, was he? You know, it's probably best if I don't no the answer to that, isn't it?

Aw well, at least he had a varied afterlife!

Parabolic Muse said...


I actually saw another post between parts one and two of this, and it still kept its poignancy!!

back to watching that vid from the earlier post. i'm not drinking, i just go out of order sometimes.

Anna said...

Shrinky, that was happy and sad tale at the same time. I had to go back here today and read it... poor Peter, at least he had some good times with you. Anna :)

jay said...

That was great!

I was going to say 'you should have settled for the rocket', but then 'your Ex' would probably have LOVED that! ROFL!!

Great story! :D

Parabolic Muse said...

where are you, dammit?