Leave A Scar||Marilyn Manson Love Story

My Monkey

"My dream was to become a champion roller skater..." - Marilyn Manson, The High End Of Low, Autobiography.

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It had been several months since I first met Abby. Since that first night at her house, we have become the best of friends. Since I was always organized with my work, she had asked me to take control of what houses we clean and when. I always made it so we had a few days of each week we didn't work, much to her pleasure.

Right now, I was sitting in the office writing out next week's schedule. Just as I was about to get finish up, my phone starts to ring. "I had a little monkey, I sent him to the country and I fed him on ginger bread. 'Long come a choo-choo knocked my monkey coo-coo and now my monkey's dead...."

I chuckle at the ringtone, and look at my cell. Seeing an unknown number, I automatically assume its a new customer. I calm myself before answering, "Thanks for calling Ziggety-Zag Cleaning, this is Ryvr speaking." I hear a chuckle on the other end of the line, making me roll my eyes. It wasn't my idea for the stupid name. It was all Abby.

"Hi Ryvr. I want to know if you guys have any room to clean a house about once a week." The voice sounds familiar, but for the life of me I can't figure out why.

"Yeah sounds good. We have an opening tomorrow if that's fine with you. We charge $200 an hour."

"Only $200? Cheap. Yeah tomorrow sounds good. Do you mind if I have my driver come to get you? For the first time anyway."  What a strange guy....

"Sounds good. We should be done with the other house around 4pm. I trust you found our address from our ads?"

"You trust well. The driver will be there by 4:30pm sharp. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye Ryvr."

"Goodb-" The sound of him hanging up irritates me. "What a stuck up rich boy." I mutter, writing three question marks in tomorrow's open space next to the numbers 4:30. Grabbing my phone, I stand up and make my way out of the office, rubbing my sore eyes slightly as I stare at the clock. 11:30PM. Groaning, I trudge down the stairs where Abby was sitting with a Budweiser can in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

"Ohey Ryvr! You're still up? What have you been doing?" I flop down on the couch next to her, enjoying the change of position.

"It's Sunday night. You know  every Sunday I make the upcoming week's schedule. Speaking of, new house tomorrow at four-thirty. The guy is sending a driver to pick us up. I figured since Bloom's home wont be used for two more weeks, that we could just do a quick check after Depp's house tomorrow." She nods, seemingly happy with that arrangement.

"Did the guy mention who he was?" I shake my head, the motion only making my tangled red hair get even messier.

"Nope." I say, popping the 'p'. "All I know is that when I told him the price, he called it cheap. Which means he's either a pimp, or a celebrity. Though I'm going to say celebrity. Pimp's don't have drivers."

Abby laughs, running her hand through her now blue hair. I swear that girl changed it every month. "He could be a celebrity pimp. Think about it!" I sigh at her simple mind, the alcohol obviously effecting her thought process.

"Well, whatever he is, he sounded familiar... and hot." Abby sits up and crosses her legs, facing me.

"Ooooh Ryvr! Gonna get some with the celebrity pimp?" She bursts out laughing as she winks at me, making my cheeks burn from embarrassment.

"Gross! Of course not! Now come on, put that out it's almost midnight. We need to get to sleep."

She groans putting the cigarette out. She gulps back the rest of her beer, slamming the bottle onto the counter. "Alright. Night Ryvr! Wake me up in the morning!" I watch as she jumps off the couch and runs up the stairs. Shaking my head, I pick up the beer bottle and walk to the kitchen, tossing it into the trash.