MY CORONATION started Saturday morning, and it hasn’t stopped. The monkeys dressed respectably, even ironing their clothes. Most of the clothes have been ripped to shreds by now and lie across the branches.
Monkey trainers and taxi drivers and even the market stall owners showed up in numerous animal onesies even though it was such a humid day. My favourite was the pretty waitress dressed as a sexy elephant.
The theme music of my formal ascension to the throne was Bom Bom (Sam and The Womp).
For lunch we had fish and chips, delivered by a young delivery driver from Bali Buddha. I invited him to stay and party. He phoned his girlfriend and her extended family who lived nearby to join the fun, and we made some new friends.
The monkeys danced with the tourists to the energetic music as I surveyed my kingdom with a fresh eye. Certainly, you might be under the impression I ruled this kingdom since I began this blog in May. You and me both. For you see, making a white Australian believe he was a monkey king was a cruel prank. They thought screwing around with a gullible uni student would give them a few weeks of non-stop laughter. When I was no longer funny they would eat me (Mojo told me this).
But after all the energy I’d put into being monkey king, the monkeys became uncomfortable, psychologically speaking. They began to like me and they didn’t want to kick me out of the tree and say “fun’s over”. Fortunately it worked out for us all. There had been a power vacuum left from when they executed their last king (a monkey named Ivan. I don’t know what they did to remove him or why, but I’ll find out).
So all the grown monkeys met in secret and took a vote to see whether they could keep me as their ruler or whether I should be voted off the island of Bali.
“I don’t have the heart to eat him,” an adopted Capuchin called Nigel admitted. “I don’t even eat much meat anyway, to tell you the truth.”
“We don’t have to eat him,” Rafiki said. “We just have to bite him a lot of times. If we do this I’ll shout us all rounds at the Boom Boom Bar.” He still hasn’t forgiven me for burning down his veranda (Long story).
But the bribe failed, and here we are. Two days into the party and the music is so loud we can’t sleep (even if you want to dammit!), Bom Bom on repeat for the thousandth time. It’s a carnival and many of the restaurants have given us alcohol and food as a form of tribute or congratulations or whatever. A couple of the monkeys are now performing a Punch and Judy show, but they don’t seem to have watched Punch and Judy before, and judging by their actions they are making violent assumptions based on the name.
The party doesn’t look to be stopping anytime soon so I’ll fill you in with more details later. As some of my readers will know, one of my 24 dreams is to party with the Bundy Rum bear. He hasn’t showed up yet =(