The Jig Monkey  I'm in a house with my mom and others. I'm doing homework. It's nighttime. There's a silent, creepy, eerie feeling. I have been drinking tea, and my urge to urinate grows. I have to go outside. I'm holding up one edge of a tent, which may be my dome tent. I hold it up with one hand urinate on the ground with the other hand holding my penis. I urinate here, under the tent, because I'm scared to go elsewhere in the darkness. My urine foams and forms puddles as it hits the dirt and soaks in. I wonder about the moisture being a problem when I set the tent down: I know the tent has a plastic sewn-in floor that will probably be fine with muddy ground. I'm inside looking at photographs. There are many old photographs of our family that I've never seen, or have not seen in a long time. There are photographs of my parents, and the kids from the early 1980's. My parents slept out in a tent in the yard, where the sandbox would be. They were having marital troubles. It is later, and I'm going outside to urinate. I walk along the outside of a long white, single-story house. I stand near the end of the house in the dark. There is something there in the darkness. I may get a glimpse of it, or hear it in the bushes. I'm scared. I run away, back into the house where my mom and my sisters are. I feel frantic and frightened. I say I have heard it or seen something. I go into frenzy out of fear and agitation. I run back outside in my frenzy to confront this person or thing. I yell out to it, "Come on you Jig Monkey!" I'm fed up. I it there, and it flees. I see the shadow of it as it runs away. It may have pointy ears.