It has been a number of weeks since the Monkey King has posted on WordPress. There are some good reasons to this. And it falls to me – a talking, computer literate monkey – to narrate the story.
This is the story of the fall of the Monkey King.
Read it well:
It’s tough to describe the character of my former lord. Some describe him as a tyrant. To others; a simpleton. An Australian disillusioned by the wealth, pretension and grandeur in his country. I don’t believe it. To me, he wasn’t a friend, a kind soul, a saviour.
He was my boss.
So I hated him. Even though he liked me.
“You’re my favourite monkey, Mojo! You’re the pick of the litter,” the Monkey King said over and over (sorry to the monkeys who are reading this, I guess you weren’t that important in the MK’s eyes. He never mentioned you to me at any rate, so you couldn’t have been important).
But I had to tell the fool that all the monkeys in the forest weren’t related, so they couldn’t be in a single litter. Besides, monkeys aren’t puppies. Or cats. They are monkeys. I don’t believe monkeys relate to litters. Unless the monkeys are throwing bananas and rubbish on the ground. As in; “stop littering, you stupid monkeys!”
Some compare the Monkey King (our lord Chewbacca) to looking like Jim Morrison.
Nah. That’s not true. Jim Morrison has sex appeal. Not that I was sexually attracted to Morrison. It wouldn’t work out. He’s a human. A guy. And he’s a musician.
Never date a musician.
Oh, and I’m quite sure he’s dead. I read somewhere that he was dead.
The Monkey King had blue eyes. Everyone talked about his blue eyes. They startled a person and you had to avoid staring at him because the intensity of his pupils scared you. It was embarrassing to make eye contact. There was something deeply personal about the transaction. All the Balinese locals spoke about his eyes. They said “the Monkey King has blue eyes. Lovely blue eyes. Beautiful blue eyes. I wish I had blue eyes.” In fact, the vendors in the marketplace bought fake eye contacts as deep blue as fake plastic sapphire. To sell them, the vendors pitched them to potential buyers as “Monkey King eyes.”
“Ay you, want eyes like Monkey King?”
Nobody wanted eyes like the Monkey King, it turned out. Not for 70,000 Rupiah anyway. The eyes were too deep set, they made him seem crazy.
But it wasn’t his eyes that made him crazy. It was his actions.
Sure, in his blog he blamed the craziness on the monkeys, but we just obeyed his orders. He was insane.
And through his insanity, dis-contention began among the ranks.
-He’d play his trumpet in the early morning, waking us up at 5am to When the Saints Go Marching In.
– He burnt down Rafiki’s treehouse while we were having a onesie party. What an evil thing to do.
– He refused to marry and produce heirs. He broke the heart of our lovely Scar-face. Toyed with her emotions.
-He endorsed slave labour.
– He kidnapped a drop bear from its native country, and released a white tiger, using them to spread fear among the monkeys (who are terrified by them). He’d say “if you don’t do what you’re told and work 15 hours a day for free, then the drop bear and white tiger will get you!”
-He made us watch Gossip Girl and Neighbours. It was never the good shows. I still haven’t caught up with Game of Thrones.
-And, I’m pretty sure he ate this monkey for breakfast last Sunday
– And so, you might be tempted to think of the Monkey King as a martyr, a kind man, a nobleman, a hero of sorts, especially when you learn what happened to him.
But actually, he was just a man. A monkey man. As cruel and as deceitful as the rest of us.
I continue soon.