by Geoff Gouveia

Monkey was a boy, and like all boys who rode skateboards, he was in love and overwhelmed by that fact. He had met the girl the spring of ‘96 and she was beautiful. Her blonde California sun hair bounced with vibrant swirls on top of the magenta scarf she wore everywhere. They ate melons on the corner of Fifth and Market next to the train station before parting ways for the night. Monkey caught a striped bird and named him Fernando before he gave him to the girl. The girl loved the bird but always asked about the feathers, to which Monkey lied about for fear of looking dumb in front of a pretty girl. The day of her round-trip train to San Louis Obispo, the girl and Monkey argued over Fernando’s feathers true origin. She exited the platform in a huff and hurry after discovering Monkey’s lies. She boarded the train before yelling out the window she’d be back on a Tuesday.

When the first Tuesday passed and she had not returned, Monkey became confused: he didn’t know which Tuesday she meant. He then rode his skateboard to the train station every Tuesday with a full backpack of melons, perfect for an immediate picnic after his love disembarked the train. Each Tuesday he went and each Tuesday she never came.

One Tuesday as Monkey sat on the platform he saw stripes fluttering towards him. When Fernando landed on his shoulder, Monkey sobbed as he bit into a melon. His tears overflowed into the rind and spilled onto the remaining melons in the bag. A hungry passerby tapped him on the shoulder and asked to purchase the remaining pieces of fruit. Monkey sold the fruit and walked away. Before he could walk out of earshot, the passerby squealed in delight, asking Monkey what his special sauce was in the melon. Monkey apologized for the tears but the man waved it off, claiming the melons were the most delicious he’d ever had. In fact, he said, if Monkey met him next Tuesday with more of the same, he’d bring his friends in a hurry.

And thus began the most profitable melon business in the history of Monkey’s tiny California town. Every Tuesday Monkey rode his skateboard to the station and sat on the same bench, watching all the train’s passengers leave for their destinations. When he didn’t see his blonde-haired, magenta-scarfed love, he sobbed into the backpack while Fernando flew to his post on Monkey’s shoulder. The people clapped at the sight of the bird and licked their lips in anticipation of tasting the melons their friends had told them about. With every passing Tuesday, the line grew longer and longer, until the train station stopped taking trains on Tuesdays all together.

Monkey became a multi millionaire selling the melons every Tuesday for ten years. His customers never understood why he still sobbed when they bought his last melon.

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