String Cheese Article - Twenty Three

Monkey See... Monkey Die.

by Aryn Corley

Normally, I reserve this column for things of a nonsensical and mildly humorous nature. I even use this column as a launch pad for completely fabricated stories.

But today, I feel I must use this article as forum to eulogize a dear friend.

As I was perusing the Texas Legislature’s website looking for laws legalizing off-track betting on hamster racing, I found some sad news.

On 18 March 2009, SR 448 was read into the rolls of the State Senate announcing the untimely death of Kambula the Gorilla, from the Fort Worth Zoo.

I was saddened by this news, but I also felt a little guilty for not having stayed in touch with Kambula after we’d graduated from high school.

Kambula and I were from the same village in the western lowlands just outside the shores of Lake Pupucaca, in Madagascar. We went to different elementary and middle schools, so we didn’t meet until we were freshmen.

As some seniors were hazing me during my first week of school, I remember a gorilla coming from out of nowhere and sending those kids flying into lockers and making them scatter. As a token of my appreciation, I gave the gorilla my bandana. I read somewhere once that monkeys love bandanas.

From that moment on, Kambula and I became best pals.

Kam, or as I liked to call him, “Donkey Kong”, used to love showing off for the cheerleaders. They loved it when he’d pick up cars or just chew on a stick. The football coaches all wanted him to play, but Kam wouldn’t stop deflating the balls. He said it was fun like popping packing bubbles.

Kam was more of an artist than an athlete. We both joined the band. I played a trumpet while he played three bass drums. You should’ve heard that big monkey play! When you’re doing drum rolls, it helps to have thumbs on your feet.

We also went on a double date one time. We took our dates to Showbiz Pizza, and then went to see Gorillas in the Mist. Kam got misty so we left early. He always had a crush on Sigourney Weaver. Luckily, we found some barrels that he could throw at an Italian plumber. That seemed to cheer him up.

Kam and I tried out for and were cast in the high school drama department’s production of King Kong. I was cast as a villager and Kam was cast as Faye Wray! Kam would confide to me later, at a keg party, that he’d kept the dress he wore in the play and would try it on from time to time. 

To each his own.

He and I had made big plans for ourselves for when we graduated from high school. We both said we’d either go to law school and become high-powered attorneys or go work in a slaughterhouse. Alas, the best laid plans of men and gorillas…

After graduation, I joined the military and Kam went to the zoo. We always said we’d stay in touch, but the days turned into weeks and the weeks into years. Before I knew it, I had a family of my own and a career. Kam was happy where he was swinging on tires, mating with several female gorillas, and making faces at tourists.

Even though time had passed, and I hadn’t spoken to him in a long time, there is still a place in my heart for him. I know that right now, wherever he is, he’s going completely ape.

See ya, Kam. Say “Hi” to Chuck Darwin for me.

NEW BLOG TITLE

I changed the name of my blog from Confessions... to The Cheese Factor. I think it accurately expresses the focus of the site which is primarily to archive my String Cheese articles. Furthermore, it will give me the lattitude to exercise a little more freedom of speech.

Singin' in the Rain

It's rained for the past two days.

It's also been cold.

The whole weather situation has me craving steak and kidney pie with a small dallop of Branston Pickle. 

I remember when I was in England the weather was always wet and chilly. When I look at pictures of me back then I sure was pale. At least by Mexican standards. It's days like this I wish I could just zip over to London for a small visit.

Blimey.

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth

Saturday night I spent most of the night in the emergency room.
While I was on patrol, I got one of those strange parental feelings. I called my wife because I hadn't heard from her all day and I knew she was taking the kids with her to the radio station.
When I got her on the phone she sounded frantic. She told me she was going to the hospital because my daughter needed to be looked at.
Once again, my three year old stunt girl banged her face on a solid object. This time it was a doozy.
There are two types of phone calls I dread getting regarding this girl. The first one deals with any injury. The second has more to do with the one call you get from the county jail.
When I got to the emergency room I knew it was bad because they let me go right in without wanting to see my insurance card. They were in the "Trauma 2" room, which also gave me a pretty good idea about the situation.
When I came in I saw my daughter on a gurney with blood all over her face, my wife about to pass out, and my son with his eyes darting about wondering if he was going to be next in line for shots.
The doctor came in and did his assessment, then had a PA stitch her up with two stitches in her bottom lip. She didn't cry nearly as bad as I did when I got the bill.
On 3/2/09 she went to the dentist and had her two front teeth pulled. There was no use in letting them stay. My wife was upset at first, but I reminded her that most of the girls in East Texas are missing their front teeth anyway. The doctor put her two little pearly incisors in a little plastic container for posterity. I think I'll have them made into earrings and give them to her on her 18th birthday.
UPDATE: My daughter is totally milking the sympathy. She loves the attention and having chocolate shakes for dinner. She says she can't wait to lose more teeth so she can get more money from the Tooth Fairy.

String Cheese - Article Twenty Two

Two take Texas-sized

bite out of Big Apple

by ARYN CORLEY

“Watch out! You’re gonna kill someone!”

When I heard my wife shout those words to our cab driver, it was then I realized that we were really in New York City. However, our driver didn’t understand much English so her plea had fallen on uncomprehending ears. As the cab dodged in and out of traffic like Emmitt Smith running through the Steeler’s defensive line, I wondered if we’d properly completed our will. After a short ride we were dumped at our destination in Queens.

Queens, New York, is not exactly a tourist destination. It’s much like Pointblank, only slightly bigger. At least the hotel was free. There didn’t seem to be any insects because the rats had eaten them all. The hotel where we stayed (name withheld because I can’t write in Arabic) was probably very nice about the same time Fleetwood Mac was big.

Being from Texas, distance is a strange thing. We drive everywhere because nothing is close by. In a big city like New York, a “block” is actually a unit of measure. It’s about as long as a football field. So when the bell captain (funny, our hotel had no bell nor steeple for that matter) said the subway station was five blocks away, that sounded really close.

Normally, walking five hundred yards doesn’t bother me unless it’s in extremely cold weather. New York in February is pretty darn close to winter. It’s perfect weather for hanging deer meat or just dying from hypothermia. Texans have no business being in the cold. Which is why we invented the jalapeno.

Texans also have no business traveling on the subway system. It’s very easy to tell a Texan in the subway station. We’re the ones who say, “Which train is this?” It took us a couple of days to figure out the trains don’t run from point A to point B. I think a few times we accidentally ended up where we needed to be.

While we were there, we visited my sister. She lives in an apartment in Manhattan. I never realized just how living in such a huge city is different than living in the country. When I look out my window, I see a beautiful shot of Lake Livingston. When I looked out my sister’s window, I saw a half-naked woman staring at me with bewilderment. She was probably wondering why my nose was flattened on the glass.

I have to say, though, the food was amazing. We Texans are blessed with good food. So are New Yorkers. My wife and I ate in a Chinese restaurant one evening. We had no idea what we ordered other than it was fried and the wait staff was very interested to see if we were going to puke. We also had some fantastic Greek food. They rolled their eyes at us when we ordered two “Ji-Rohs.” They also looked at us like they’d never heard of Dr. Pepper!

Sadly, we never made it out to ground zero and my fear of heights automatically ruled out the Empire State building. We were able to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. I was finally able to satisfy my curiosity as to what the Statue of Liberty wears underneath her toga. You can see it if you go around behind the statue itself. I’m not telling what it is though. It’s a secret.

Ellis Island was a sobering testament to the people who came to this country looking for a better way of life. Several thousand immigrants came here with nothing but a few dollars in their pockets and desire to make it in this country. Fortunately, they had a restaurant, souvenir shop, and plenty of exhibits to keep them busy.

After a few days of blistering cold and almost getting run over by busses and taxis, it was time for us to come home. In a way I was saddened our trip wasn’t a couple of days longer. The general level of friendliness and hospitality we were shown while we were there pleasantly surprised me. New Yorkers are stereotypically viewed as rude, arrogant, and brash. We must not have been in the right part of the city.

Now, I have a better understanding of all those shirts I saw which read: I “heart” New York.