When I met Quasi-mojo, the Monkey

Many children of many cultures share their beds with special furry friends and they largely agree that such friends make the finest, loving and most understanding of bedfellows. There comes a time however, when despite the love and understanding (displayed most often in terms of the availability of cuddles in the former case and being unpeturbed by bodily fluids in the latter case) these furry friends become redundant and, though it be harsh it also be true, are evicted.

I expect we are all somewhat au fait with the phenomenon. One way or the other, this is my story: I had a number of such friends as a child but unlike my peers, mine were either abducted, intimidated or otherwise convinced to leave. I don't know exactly what happened and I don't think I ever will (or want to), but one Spring morning when I was four I woke up without them and found by what I expected was no coincidence, a monkey casually squatting in profile on my bottom-right bedpost. He was smoking an odourless cigarette and turned his head to look at me as he inhaled.

If I'm honest, I hadn't yet noticed that my furry friends were gone, but I understood his meaning right away when he spoke: "We all need friends Horse, but no-one needs friends like those." In that wonderfully direct and beautiful way we all have at that age my response was to ask "Are you my friend Mojo?" He cocked his head back and laughed. Well, I say it was a laugh, it was at least comparable to a laugh except that it was a noise which also registered displeasure and repulsion. He looked at me intently but I didn't think there was any Malice in it. His response insofar as I can recall and from what I know now of how he goes on, was something like: "Now listen Horse, you are in many ways not a horse but you're close enough for me to call you Horse. I'll do you the courtesy of not calling you Boy or that other thing - like you wouldn't call me Monkey - but I think you even know already that I ain't mojo enough to be Mojo. I mean at my very best - and I'm proud of it I add- I'm only ever going to be Quasi-mojo."

Well you were a child once. You don't need me to tell you the name stuck.