When I was in college I went through a lot of different roommates before I moved in by myself. I loved my roommates, don't get me wrong, in fact I am still good friends with most of them and still live near/hang out with one of them quite often. However, I wanted a small house where I could purchase a skunk or two and be able to have alone time if wanted. I purchased my first skunks in that house. A small 2 bedroom (if you could call the tiny rooms bedrooms) mother in law apartment with no doors anywhere but on the bathroom. Perfect for one college student.
However, even though it was perfect for one college student I would sometimes have friends stay with me for a period of time. One of the most memorable house guests I had was a guy named Gene. He was russian and spoke with an accent. A friend of a friend who needed a place to stay for a few days. I let him crash on my couch before really knowing him, on the say-so of a friend. It didn't turn out too badly, he was a clean house guest, he cooked lots of spicy sausage type meals to share with me, and had a propensity for picking flowers out of the college flower gardens and leaving them around my house.
He also had a propensity for talking to himself. He would mutter to himself all day about how he couldn't sleep because monkeyfaces kept him awake. He would tell me that the monkeyfaces hated him and followed him around everywhere he went. I worried slightly that my house guest might be schizophrenic. He didn't seem to think that the monkeyfaces were going to harm him, but he also didn't seem to think they were friendly. I asked my friend about Gene's behaviour and was told "I have no idea? I have never heard him talk about that before."
About 3 days into his stay he burst into my room grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards the bathroom. He was freaking out. The monkey faces wouldn't let him take a shower. He didn't know what to do. He needed me to tell the monkey faces to let him take a shower. I braced myself for the inevitable moment where I would have to punch this crazy person and run as he pulled me into the bathroom. At that point I dissolved into peals of laughter as both of my skunks, positioneds in the middle of the shower puffed, stomped, and grunted at us both. Looking at Gene I asked "Do you know the english word for my pets?" He shook his head and said "No, but they have monkey faces."
I told him they were called skunks, and took the skunks in the bedroom for the rest of his stay so the monkeyfaces wouldn't keep him awake. To this day I sometimes call my skunks monkeyfaces and laugh.