I was at the end of a long trip through Morocco. It was my last night in Marrakech, as I was taking the night train to Casablanca, then through Tangier on my way back to Spain.  After getting drunk with the idea of sleeping it off on the train, I was stopped by an old man on my way to the station.

'Where are you going?' he asked me.

'To Casablanca,' not thinking straight.

'That's a long walk, my friend.'

'No, I'm going by train. I’m going to the train station.’

‘Oh, well that doesn’t leave for two more hours.’

‘Uh...’

‘More than enough time, follow me...’ he said pulling me back the way I came. 
I protested, ‘No... I think I’m going to go to the train.’

‘Wait, wait! Don’t you trust me?’

I had learned early on never to trust people who said that, and while I tried to formulate a rebuttal, he said, ‘Do you want to see a monkey fight?’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Do you want to see a monkey fight?’

I thought about it.  I didn’t want to see monkeys fight per se... but the chance to drunkenly see A monkey fight in Marrakech, seemed to much to pass up.

Still, I said, ‘I don’t know man.. is anything gonna die?’

‘No, no... they fight, they don’t kill.’

‘It’s close, and I will still catch my train?’

‘Yes, yes!’

‘I’ll go.’

He smiled a tooth and lead me away from the bar. Coming around a corner he turned to me.

‘Ok my friend, five dollars to watch the monkey fight.‘ He said flashing fingers in my face.

‘Ten dollars, if you want to fight the monkey.’

What?  That’s right, he said ten dollars and I could fight the monkey.

‘Wait, so this isn’t a monkey-monkey fight?’

‘No! No, this is a monkey-man fight.’

I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay ten dollars to get mauled by a monkey. But for five bucks, the pot just got a little sweeter. 

I gave him five dollars.

I followed him for what seemed like a lifetime but was only ten minutes, though the seedy part of Marrakech to what looked like a hotel.  I followed the man inside as he disappeared into a group of around 60 men in their 60’s, all around five and half feet tall, missing teeth, exactly like him. The crowd was littered with two or three taller white guys, probably lured in her just like me.

In the middle of the courtyard sat a mangy balding little orangutan looking monkey about 3 feet tall on it’s haunches. It seemed to be asleep, but was rocking back and forth moving it’s lips.

Suddenly, the din of the crowd rose and I turned to see a big British bloke with a shaved head loudly pushing his way through.  He was six and half feet tall, probably 300 lbs. and was gonna kill the monkey.  He said so.  He had a friend, who acted as his monkey fight trainer, telling him he needed to pin the monkey down and then hit it.

When everyone had settled down, a man came out and shook a goat bell, signaling the beginning of the match.

The man took too steps forward and kicked the monkey in the stomach.  The monkey coughed up a cloud of dust and fell over.

It was enough to make me throw up a little in my mouth.  I started thinking to myself, this isn’t good.  I’m going to watch a man kill a monkey.  This is no good. 

The man had walked up to the monkey and was about to stomp on it, when a whistle went off somewhere in the audience...

... And the monkey woke up. It went from laying on the ground, to around the guys neck in probably 2 seconds.

The monkeys legs were wrapped around his torso, one arm was pounding him on the back, the other was reaching behind the monkey down between the mans legs.  The monkey was squeezing the guy’s genitals like it was pulling a banana out of its skin without peeling it. All the while biting the mans neck, but since there were no teeth in the monkey’s mouth, it was more of a savage gumming.

When the man started screaming like a woman, I had the realization that I wasn’t going to see a monkey die. Now I’m going to watch a man die. This sucks.

The man collapsed, I looked over to his trainer, who was crying, and decided I had to leave then.

I ran back to the train station.  Only a twenty minutes had passed.  I wasn’t taking any more chances, so I got my bag, and hopped onto my train.  I left Marrakech wondering what happened to that man, but thinking he deserved everything he got.