I think everything traumatic happened to me when I was about nine years old. Why is that? Well, for THIS particular story it's likely because my sister AMEE was just entering her hellatious (word?) teen years....and she hated me.
We were at John's Pet Shop here in Spokane (now Trade-a-Game) and they had a caged monkey in the back. I think it was a chimpanzee, probably the size of a 2-year old kid. It had toys. It HAD toys. But my loving sister, Amee, TOOK the chimp's toy from him. Okay...no big deal. Yeah, right, tell that to the monkey!
The monkey freaked out...I mean really! He couldn't get to his toy (as Amee is laughing) and so he reached out with his long, gangly arms and grabbed me by the hair. Of course there are bars separating us, and he's trying to jerk me into the cage, but the bars are stopping me...slam after slam. Klunk. Klunk. Klunk. Nope, my little screaming head will not fit through the bars. The whole time my Mom is trying to pry the monkey's fingers off of my hair...EVENTUALLY with some success. The pet store owner, of course, is in a frenzy...probably thinking "lawsuit, lawsuit." Finally, Mom yells at Amee to give the monkey his toy back. And all is well.
My scalp was so sore that day. So, so sore.
Laura 
Amber
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