Picture this

What a scary monkey!
He is as wild and crazy as Ben-Ben the Monkey Boy in Ruth's Ellie McDoodle series, or as full of energy as Cayden, our grandson, who is the inspiration for Ben-Ben.
In the book, I picture the illustrations as realistic renderings of incredible events.
Well, except for the last spread, where a play pen is revealed as the prison, a wading pool as the ocean, a sand box as the great dunes, lego buildings, plastic toys, etc. etc.
What do you think?

Terror in a Monkey Suit

Here I am, I'm in the street,
Cars are honking at my feet.
I could crush them with my toe,
But I'll be good and let them blow.

The buildings are so tall and spare,
I clamber to a point up there.
Airplanes buzz my ears like flies.
I won't swat those strafing guys.

I leap and bound from peak to spire.
I reach the top and then soar higher.
The moon could be my basketball.
I'll leave it there, it's kinda small.

The fiercest beasts turn tail and flee
If they should sniff a whiff of me.
It's then the mythic monsters cry,
The T-Rex begs, the dragons fly.

The ocean is my swimming pool,
But I don't dive in as a rule.
I toy with boats on choppy seas.
Oh, I could sink them if I please.

I'd pull the plug, it's in my reach,
And make the waters one big beach.
I frolic in the dunes instead,
And make a sculpture of my head.

The weather is afraid of me.
I part the clouds so I can see.
I push the wind back with a fart.
The sun asks me if day can start.

I am a big and brawny brute:
Terror in a monkey suit.
My quickness is too fast to see,
I'm back before you're missing me.

I gulp with gusto, slake my thirst,
My etiquette could be the worst.
I could offend society.
I could, but that's not really me.

I can't sit still, I'm made to move.
Got lots to do, but not to prove.
I'm wild and strong and brave and free.
I don't believe in gravity.

I grapple mountains into dust.
I crumble bridges into rust.
I am a huge vindictive force,
Or could be, if I chose, of course.

No prison walls can capture me,
If that's not where I want to be.
No laws of science, God or man,
Apply unless I say they can.



There's just one thing keeps me in check,
To say my prayers and wash my neck.
I'd be destructive as a bomb,
Except I love, and fear, my Mom.


Charlie Barshaw
For Ruth, Cayden and Lisa, his mom.

Ruth and I have the same birthday. Really, May 23, though I was born in 1954 and she in 1959.
That certainly was a big talking point when we met. Some might see it as fate.

At any rate, her birthday (and mine) is coming up on Saturday. Being as I am unemployed at the moment, and being too she would like to see me writing again, I've decided to resurrect an old story idea and make it into a kid's book manuscript for her.

I've got some stanzas I scribbled out, and I'm going to let them percolate for a day, but by Saturday I hope to have 12 spreads, 400 words of possible kid's literature for my sweetheart of 27 years.