Me And My Monkey

​Oh, just that day eight years ago when we stopped at the pizza joint on the way home from school, our Friday tradition. Over many dozens of visits, she never once deviated from her standard order: two cheese slices, one chocolate milk. No oregano, no parsley, no parmesan. No toppings of any sort, ever. PLAIN. CHEESE. There were better and more convenient places around, less oily, more adventurous, thinner crust. But she liked this one. I never ordered anything myself, as a fatty grease bomb in any disguise --Quarter Pounder, Pad Thai, cheesesteak, pepperoni and onion, even if tasting good on the way down, always makes me slightly nauseated and needing to lie on the couch for an hour afterward. On this particular day I saw her staring at the poster on the wall above us, slice paused mid-shove, somewhere between intrigued and vaguely intruded upon.
"Know who that is?"
"Nope."
"John Lennon."
"So?"
"He was in the Beatles."
Shrug.
"Kind of the most famous band of all time."
Chewing, glazing over.
"What's weird is, it may also be the dumbest band name of all time."
Looks up, slight interest at the coming slight.
"Because it's a pun. Not spelled Beetles, but BEAT-LES. Like, a musical beat? Rhythmic notation? We all grew up with them as a given, as ever-present, and so no one questions it. That's just their name. But if you think about it, "The Beatles" has zero nuance or even marginal coolness. It doesn't represent them or the breadth of their music in any way. Sure, there were the Eagles and Buddy Holly's Crickets. There were the Monkees and the Turtles, Camel and Whitesnake and all the other animal names. Then other dumb puns like Def Leppard and Led Zeppelin. And even your slightly clever ones like Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols, Camper Van Beethoven and Dead Kennedys. I mean, they would have been better off as The Mop Tops. Or Paul McCartney And The Liverpool Three."
"He seems sad."
"Who, Lennon? Yeah."
"Why?"
"Well, probably because someone shot him."
"Why?"
"The world, little peanut, is a crazy place. Sometimes there are no real answers. Even to important questions."
"Take a picture of me."
"Right now?"
"No, duh."
She got up and stood next to The Man, uncannily approximated his expression.
“You have sauce on your face.”
“So?”
I snapped the pic.
She nodded, satisfied, finished her milk.
We drove home.