The End of the 00s: The Hollywood Crowd, by Ken Wheaton

by The End of the 00s

The year was 2007. Broken-hearted after the New Orleans Saints lost to Chicago in the NFC Championship game, I flew out to Los Angeles to hang out with my best friend from college, Doug. Doug was doing grad work in marine biology at USC. A smart guy, even if he was from Jersey. But even more impressive than his brains and his fancy science trips to Antarctica and his ability to laugh off my global-warming denialism without slapping me, were his drinking and football-watching skills. Also, for a sciency, white-trash sort from New Jersey, he ran with a Hollywood crowd.

At any rate, we went out into the hills east of Los Angeles to the home of one of Doug’s friends, where we set up a projection TV system and a white sheet — all the better to throw things at the screen should the hated Bears win the game. We drank and drank some more. At half time, we watched Aqua Teen Hunger Force. I think. The Colts won.

Oh, and a monkey slapped me.

Now, when I said Doug ran with a Hollywood crowd, I didn’t mean THE Hollywood crowd, but a Hollywood crowd. Namely, a Hollywood crowd that trained animals and stunt animals. Including Crystal, the monkey who played “Dexter” in “A Night at the Museum.”

Though I’d heard she could be irate and jealous (especially around women), Crystal seemed a cool monkey to me. Wore little monkey pants. Picked at my scalp. Sat on my shoulder. Undoubtedly, she was super impressed with my T-shirt that read, “I Wish I Were a Monkey. That Way I Could Fling My Poop at You.”

But when I put my hand out in a high-five fashion (what else do you do with a monkey, anyway), she smacked me.

Turns out the flat-out palm was the signal they’d taught her to slap Ben Stiller during the making of the movie.

There is a lesson in this somewhere, but I had so much to drink that night, I couldn’t tell you what that lesson is. And it wasn’t nearly as meaningful as the day I got married or when I found out my first novel would be published. But really, wasn’t this decade all about how you’d rather read about someone getting slapped by a monkey?

Ken Wheaton’s first novel, The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival (Kensington) will be released at the end of the month. He earns a living wage as an assistant managing editor at Advertising Age magazine.