The Final Chapter of Zippo & Monkey Boy - The End of an Era

To those dear readers who have been following my blog, I wrote about Zippo and Monkey Boy several times. This is the final chapter.

To the newcomers, Zippo was my first boyfriend at 13 turning 14. He remained memorable for the following reasons:

  1. He was the worst kisser. A tongue rammed down the throat is only a prelude used to clear the passage for something else. Even I knew that at 13. Although his sister can attest that "Zippo had more ass than a toilet seat," an accolade I'd love to read on a tombstone, who wants a walking STD that can't kiss?
  2. He tried to drown me. And my cousin and our friends. He set the precedent of bad break-ups that continue to plague me throughout my life.
  3. He gave me my first gift, an ID bracelet and then, upon the break-up, smashed it to smithereens. In front of my father, no less.
  4. We broke up right in time for the 1969 Woodstock Music Festival occurring down the street.

Despite the animosity, he was a landmark. Everyone knew when spring truly came round 'cause Zippo was back. Likewise in fall 'cause Zippo would disappear. He had an unerring sense of weather changes similar to migratory geese. Perhaps he followed them.

This fall ended with Zippo leaving town for good. The past few years he managed to find merry widows around 15 years his senior who retained him for services rendered. After he buried a few in succession, he managed to find another victim and installed himself on the other side of the world never to return. 

His brother confided how bad he felt with his brother's departure. "Good riddens. Let that low life be someone else's problem." 

To me, it was the end of a chapter that continued for nearly 44 years. No more leering sneers. No more beer cans tossed at me from a car. And no more invectives. I wanted to sit shiva, but forgot all about him after two seconds. Until today.

This afternoon, I ran to the post office and for once the guy working there, aptly named "Gossip Girl" had time to kill.

"Haven't seen Monkey Boy in a long time," I stated. Just this morning, I realized the sound of his crepitating muffler no longer woke me as he sped past my house. Which accounts for oversleeping the past month or so. Still, I found it peculiar. Like Zippo, he was a landmark in my small community as the local Lothario. He became popular after I gave him a ringing endorsement.

Yes, Monkey Boy was my lover from a few years' back. He didn't cotton to me ending it. Turns out that he and Zippo became great friends. They had a common enemy - me. It's great to know I bring people together. Growing tired of stalking me for a year and a half, the subsequent few times we crossed paths, he said snide things like, "If you eat at the restaurant where I work, I'll poison you."

He wasn't kidding. 

"Oh, he moved to Ecuador," stated Gossip Girl.

"For the winter?"

"No, he moved out of his place and left for good right after fall." He clarified, "Defined by the time Zippo left town."

"Well, that accounts for the quietness."

Pensive, I left the post office. Those two losers were the staple of animosity with which I grew accustomed. Until it hit me: when one door closes, another opens.

Oh boy.

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