The Pulp Meme

She sauntered in my office with that amphibian on her arm and right away all I wanted to do was to cross check him into next week so I could have a few stolen moments with her in the penalty box of desire. I stubbed out my Lucky Strike and I looked deep into her eyes, and yes, my beady little simian eyes strayed further south, how could they not?

"Thanks for staying late to see me Mr. Monkerstein," she said. "I'm in trouble and I heard you were the monkey to go to when trouble comes calling."

I laughed a little bitter laugh and I said, "You that right toots." I pulled open my desk drawer and I took out a bottle of rot gut Scotch. After I set the hooch on the desk I pulled out two shot glasses. "Looks like someone's not gonna get to drink." I poured two shots quickly.

The frog reached for one and she slapped his hand. "No, silly, you're driving. You need to stay sober." She shot the frog a disapproving look, you know the one, it was the same look your kindergarten teacher gave you when you went poopy in your pants during nap time. He meekly nodded and sat back. She and I clinked our glasses together and then we knocked that rot gut Scotch whiskey back.

"Listen up Froggy, this ain't no tea party here, you either drink or you go wait in the car." I gave him my best tough guy sneer. She caught my eye and gave me an imperceptible wink. "Run along now while I do business with your wife." I waited a spilt second to see if he was in an order takin' mood. "You deaf or something? Hop along, me and your gal got grown up business to discuss." She licked her lips and I saw her blush a little. She may not have been used to having a monkey be in charge of things but she clearly liked it. And I liked that she liked it. I stood up and I lit a Lucky. "You scram now Frog, go wait out in the car for your ladywife." I blew a lungful and a half of smoke at him.

She said, "It's okay Sugar, I won't be long. I just need to speak to Mr. Monkerstein about a little matter and then I'll be right down." The frog nodded and he tried to kiss her but she squirmed away from him. "Go on, I'll see you in a few minutes." He walked out dejectedly.

As soon as the door slammed shut she was over on my side of the desk. "I thought he'd never leave," she said as she pulled my face to hers and we kissed. I knew she was trouble but I went with it anyway because sometimes trouble is all a monkey has. And sometimes it's all he wants.

She whispered in my ear, "Mr. Monkerstein, I'm a very bad girl and I need your help in getting rid of a very dull but rich frog. I'll be ever so grateful if you help me get shed of him." She kissed me again, then she said, "He's heavily insured and I know you'd love to help a gal like me blow through that cash once we get our hands on it." She blew her hot breath in my ear. "We could spend that cash someplace warm, like Mexico." She kissed me hard once more. "Do we have a deal Mr. Monkerstein?"

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I said, "Baby, call me Monkey."

(This is my take on the pulp fiction meme begun on Lady That's My Skull and continued on by Dr. Zaius and Germaine Gregarious.)