I didn’t know a monkey in a trench coat was creepy until my early 20s.

I grew up in an older city in middle class America. There is a bar within walking distance of my home, and it was late in the night. I had been drinking, but not enough to be drunk. I was walking home with my roommate, and my head was down, and I went to the side of my friend and started going up the street I used to live on. <br><br>I remember seeing a man, dressed in a long coat, and a hat, and a monkey on his shoulder. He came to a stop on the side of the road, and turned around, saw us. Then he walked towards us. He said something. I don’t remember what it was, but I’m pretty sure he was talking about the monkey. <br><br>I remember my friend grabbing onto my shoulder and pulling me into her, whispering “I don’t like this.” I remember seeing that his hands were behind him, and I was pretty sure he was hiding something. My friend pushed me forward and started walking. I remember not knowing what to say or do and eventually ran after her.<br><br>When we got into her car, she told me that she didn’t like the vibe in the air when he came closer to us. She didn’t like the way he looked when he saw us, and she didn’t like how he approached us. <br><br>I wish I could say this is the first time something like this happened to me. I wish I had more to say about the night. But a few years back, I was walking home from a bar and saw a man in a long coat with a monkey. He approached me and started talking about his monkey. I got a weird vibe, and eventually ran away from him.<br><br>I don’t know why he was there. I don’t know what he planned on doing with us. But I know that I won’t be forgetting that face any time soon. <br><br>To the monkey in a trench coat: let’s never meet again.