SubUrban Legends
Some of the following suburban sagas are true, and some are nothing but bullshit. Only you can decide which are which...
This Month's SubUrban Tale...
Monkey -- The Man Who Hated Disneyland
This Urban Legend is a 28 year old male that lives in rural Washington state. His real name -- much like the man -- is unimportant; but his 'friends' call him 'Monkey.' Monkey still lives at home with his Dad and his new Mommy -- about whom he endures much ridicule -- and rightfully so.
Within the last year this man-child-primate has managed to attract the affections of a beautiful woman, lose his long coveted virginity and dump this same beautiful woman because she was 'getting too serious.' And although he dumped her, he continued to service her because she still liked him -- poor girl. He also managed to accompany a couple of buddies to Disneyland where -- according to eyewitness accounts -- "He moped around all day" because he wasn't having any fun." Monkey claimed it was because he'd done it all before, and that there was nothing 'new' to do at the happiest place on earth. Others dispute this, claiming he was bummed because he hadn't had his new-found appetite for nooky satisfied for a few days, and on top of that -- he was missing his new Mommy.
Incredible? Yes.
Unbelievable? Most definately.
A fabrication? No way. This tale is absolutely, 100% true!
Here is one horrifying tale of Monkey, submitted by a man who knows...
I have a tale to tell about your urban legend. It seems that three men and a monkey were travelling to the wilds of Montana to fish the famed Madison river. These four people have talked about such a trip while making lesser trips to the potholes reservoir in Eastern Washington.
On the way to the potholes, they always passed a large sign outside of Royal City that read, "Welcome to Royal City, home of Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988". It had been a dream of these hearty fishermen to meet Miss Teen Washington, 1988, Kristi Powell. In fact these very men have often stopped at the local grocery store to see if Miss Powell was checking groceries or other such glamorous follow up activities to the coveted Miss Teen title.
For two plus years our search was fruitless. We had all but gave up on our search for Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988. Anyway, on our trip to Montana, I promised a young co-ed friend of mine that we would stop at WSU and take her to dinner on our way to Montana. This young lady was very pleasing to the eye and belonged to a sorority of other young ladies who were very pleasing to the eye, and rumor has it, often searched the night for hearty fishermen travelling to Montana with whom to party.
Upon arriving at the youthful co-ed's apartment, we began reminiscing about Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988, whose home town we had just passed a mere three hours prior. My youthful sorority friend asked if we were talking about Kristi Powell of Royal City.
We said, "Why yes, how come you ask". My friend said that this very person was a member of her sorority and in the building adjacent to hers. We were all giddy as school girls at this information. Had our two year quest to find Kristi Powell ended with our ultimate goal of meeting her? Monkey Boy had other plans.
While my sorority friend was freshening up in the restroom, the three men and a Monkey boy were talking in her living room about how great it would be to party with Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988. Monkey boy told us that his sister attended the University of Idaho, a mere ten miles to the east, and said we could stay the night at her place to avoid any hotel expense. We thought this was a great idea and Monkey boy told us that he had to call her. As Monkey boy was filling us in on our accommodations for the night, he let one of the biggest farts I have ever heard. At the precise time he let loose, my sorority friend walked into the room!
Monkey boy was not embarrassed, rather he claimed it with great pride. My sorority friend was truly impressed! Monkey boy went next door to a convenience store to call his sister. Being very giddy at thinking we were going to meet Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988, the remaining three of us were playing a rousing game of grab-ass behind Monkey boy making it extremely difficult for him to hear his adoring sister. He voiced his displeasure with our antics and said that his sister was becoming agitated with our behavior and was now reconsidering her invitation to us. Monkey boy then dropped a bombshell on us...
...his sister was having a party at her pad in our honor. Monkey boy assured us that there would be plenty of alcohol and fine single women at this party (not necessarily in that order!). We told him that we wanted to party with my friend, Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988 and the rest of the sorority girls but Monkey boy insisted that we not disappoint his sister. It was getting late and we had not had dinner yet, plus my sorority friend still had some unpacking to do (I think she said this so she wouldn't have to spend another minute with the Monk and his anal orchestra!).
After dinner we said our good byes and headed across the border to Idaho. It turns that our Monkey boy is also navigationally challenged and couldn't seem to remember where his sister lived. I had spent some time around the Palouse so I got us within spitting distance by his description but could not close the deal. A phone call was made to his sister and she gave me precise directions. I could hear a gaggle of women in the background. They sounded as if they may be a tad on the lonely side and willing to party. One of them got on the phone and I suggested that she signal our arrival by lifting up her shirt. She happily agreed. Five minutes later we pull into a trailer park and see two of the largest women I have ever seen milling around the entrance to the park. We all thought that there were only two possible scenarios: two cows had busted fence and were roaming the trailer park; or the offensive line for the University of Idaho Vandals lived in this trailer park. We were wrong on both accounts as these large women began to raise their shirts. We screamed in horror as we realized that these were the young, fine women Monkey boy was talking about.
As these two members of Omega Moo approached our vehicle, the driver would not roll down his window and made Monkey boy talk to them. They invited us in for a drink. As we got out of the vehicle, we dogpiled Monkey boy. This is a custom in reaction to Monkey boy doing stupid things. I traditionally get the top of the dogpile due to broken ribs suffered a while prior to the fishing trip. All of the sudden I feel six hundred pounds of cackling flesh on my back as I am being pile driven into the unsuspecting person below me. These two Omega Moos had decided to join in on our sacred dogpile without an invitation.
Just when we thought it couldn't get any worse, we went inside of the trailer and discovered two more large women. In fear of our sexual purity, we decided to go out to a pool hall and have some beer because there wasn't enough room in Monkey's sister's trailer for these women and us, not to mention the fact that it was obvious that there has been quite a drought of male companionship (in the biblical sense) in these women's lives and none of us felt liked being raped.
Once at Mingle's (a popular night spot at the time in Moscow, Idaho) the driver and I sat at a separate table to avoid the confusion that we were somehow associated with the others. The rear passenger who is a lifelong advisor to the Monkey boy spent time between both tables. The driver and I made it abundantly clear that we were not amused by "the party in our honor" or the blown opportunity to meet Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988. I saw an acquaintance who I knew from high school but hid in the corner so he wouldn't t see me with this group. As the driver and I shot pool, these women proceeded to bite us on our asses and simulate licking the same. We stopped being polite and told them to "LEAVE OUR ASSES ALONE!". I think that they got the point and they did leave us alone!
After this night of horror, we did stay the night at Monkey's sister's single wide. Monkey boy was overheard saying to his sister, "I don't know what's wrong with them, they're usually a lot of fun". Three of us slept with one eye open just in case the Omega Moos came back in the night to defrock us. Monkey boy slept like a baby knowing that he had ruined our chance to meet Kristi Powell, Miss Teen Washington, 1988.
We left bright and early the next morning and made a pact to dogpile Monkey boy in every county of every state the rest of our trip. We made good on that promise and never again had the additional tonnage that we endured in Moscow, Idaho that fateful night!
Do you know of any urban legends? Tell me about them.