This memory isn't a monster. It's a monkey, doing tricks while taunting me with a banana. I can laugh at this memory, laugh with it, because it is a good memory, and I had a lot of fun. But yet, I feel a deep sadness, because it's what I can't have. It's the past, and I'll not have it back again. Just as I've had a banana before, but I can't have this one now. It's in the hands of the monkey, who's stowing it away in it's stomach, never to be tasted again.