brass_monkey raze sybren had something serious with him this time. something big enough that he needed both hands to carry it. "are you ready to move into a bigger house yet?" he said. "here. take this." he handed me a fifteen-pound brass monkey. he stood frozen on all fours. his head was turned to the side. his lips curled into a terminal smirk. he looked ancient and incisive. "i carried this fucking thing all the way to the park the other day," sybren said. "it almost killed me. after that, i said, 'poop on it. next time i'm just putting him in the car.' he's cute, isn't he? now, make sure you don't put him anywhere too high. 'cause if he falls on you, you're dead." all the monkeys he's given us have names. there's simply red, silvero, leafy, mp (monkey priest), heft, and too many more to keep track of. "what the hell are we going to call this one?" i asked my dad. "what about tat?" he said. "for 'telling a tale'. 'cause he's a storyteller." "he does have that kind of face," i said. 220430 what's it to you? who go blather from