Did You See The Monkeys?

Look, papaw.
I pointed.
Yep.
What are they doin, papaw?
He giggled.
You’re a city boy, ain’t you, Taddy boy?
I looked down and he put his rough hand on my shoulder.
It was like a brush, hard and stiff and old.
What are they doin?
He thumped one. Then he picked it up and dropped it at our feet.
He giggled.
Dig in. It’s good.
We hunkered down and ate with our hands.
It’s good, papaw. Really sweet and good.
I giggled.
What are they doin?
They’re looking for their supper.
He giggled through the stubble.
What do they eat?
Dead things.
He looked at me. His eyes were yellow and blue.
Will you die, papaw?
He giggled. Then he stopped.
Yep. I will.
But not for a long time?
Not for a long time.
We ate with our hands. It was red and juicy and sweeter than honey.
They were up there, going round and round, like little black windmills.