Summers, as a kid, I would go stay with my dad in Northern Ca. He picked me up once and took me to Cannery Row, where he bought me one of those big spun-candy lollypops - I mean the huge ones. My father was a blacksmith back then, and on our way home we stopped at my favorite ranch to shoe a horse for a friend of his. This was my favorite place to go because of the spider monkey they had. It was in a large cage off the side of their house a few yards and while dad was working, I went over to say hello. At first the usually friendly monkey just lingered in the far corners of his cage staring at my enormous sucker, so I went and had dad crack off a tiny piece for him. I stood in front of the cage with my arm extended, offering the little guy a piece, and he slowly approached, reached through the bars, grabbed the sliver of candy and threw it at my feet in the dirt. As I bent to pick it up with my free hand, he grabbed the stick on my sucker, spun it sideways (so it would fit through the bars), and yanked it through; slamming my head into the bars and knocking me on my ass. As I sat there, teary-eyed holding a dirt-covered minuscule portion of sucker and rubbing my head while the ape howled in triumph , I turned and saw my father rolling on the ground with tears in his eyes and laughing that silent-wheezy laugh reserved for the truly hilarious.
And of course, he still likes to tell everyone how a monkey out-smarted his son.