Posts Tagged With: Humor

Monkey Prison

YOU’VE probably assumed I’m dead in Bali somewhere. Probably when Mojo posted Death to the Monkey King so you’d forget about me.

I have a highlighter and a square of toilet paper, so I’ve little space to write. I’m exiled in Monkey Prison. Yeah, it exists. It’s like Monkey Hell but without the sulfuric acid. We have knife fights and the guards bet on the winner. We live in a pit underneath a tree. There is a window at the top of the pit, between the roots of the tree, and some of the brave monkeys climb up the pit to escape.

“MATI APAAN KEPALA!!!” we scream and chant from the bottom of the pit as we watch the monkey climb. “MATI APAAN KEPALA!”  when the monkey inevitably falls and dies.

Dark Knight Rises

The sunlight shines down. It gives us hope to mess with our minds.

Apparently that’s what it does, but actually, I appreciate the sunlight. Every little thing is a blessing.

I have become a new person. A little more spiritual, a little more humble. When I was Monkey King I wanted something every day. It was a new throne room, a slippery slide down the tree, monkeys to die for my amusement, Bitey the white tiger to stop biting. And when they exiled me by throwing me in a hole in a Borneo rainforest, all I wanted was freedom.

But now I’m not bothered. What would I do with freedom? I would waste it. Now I wait in this slag heap in the bottom pit of the tunnel.

The entrance into the prison. They throw you in and leave you to die.

The entrance into the prison. They throw you in and leave you to die.

 

The first few months the monkeys beat and broke me. I crawled down in the far caverns to hide where the worst of the chimps stayed, because most of the monkeys avoided the place. It was dark and muddy, but I healed from my injuries.

Last week one of the larger chimps we avoided came to me. I thought it was going to stab me with the knife it was holding. “Are you the Monkey King?” it asked, and before I said yes it handed me the muddy piece of toilet paper. “Your manifesto changed my life. I was full of resentment for the humans – and my hate led me in here – but your 300 page essay changed my life, it taught me to transcend beyond hate. I owe you everything I became.”

The chimpanzee’s name is Cujo, and he has promised a way to get my message of hope to the outside world.

I promise to escape this prison, defeat the monkey who stripped me from the throne, and regain my title of Monkey King. Don’t delete this blog just yet.

Categories: Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Death to the Monkey King

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.

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.

Chris Bitstrip

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.

Having fun. Ha ha ha ha ha, see?

Having fun. Ha ha ha ha ha, see?

– He refused to marry and produce heirs. He broke the heart of our lovely Scar-face. Toyed with her emotions.

Scar-face-web-quality

-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

Chelsea Suzanne Photography

Why would you eat such a cute little thing? What a monster!

– 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.

Categories: Humor, literature | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Rabies from Scar-face

I’M SICK of being propositioned by suitors. In an effort to get me hitched, Jo-Jo (my Monkey’s Paw) has been encouraging  the many suitors to advance upon me. They would try to get to me at night if I hadn’t thought of fixing the walls and padlocking the doors of a local trader’s back shed in which I am currently residing in.

The most aggressive of them is a woman monkey I call “Scar-face”. She’s a bit suggestive.

"Hey beautiful"

“Hey beautiful”

I’m too scared to talk to her, and it’s not because I care what she thinks. Yesterday, Scar-face told me she had rabies, bit me on the neck, and offered out some sort of syringe which she said I needed to take as soon as possible if I didn’t want to die a most painful death.

“I’ll give it to you,” she tittered. “But you have to put a ring on it first.”

“I think we’re done here,” I said, climbing to the top of a tree and waiting for the first signs of madness. Or whatever symptoms humans get for rabies.

I’m not mad yet! And maybe I can fight the madness away by shrieking at the top of my lungs.

“Hey beautiful”
Categories: Animation, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Where I lay myself to sleep

WE ARE still building a throne room, and a slide, and a tree house. I have explained this here. What I haven’t told you is what I do to go to sleep at night.

Sometimes I sleep at the top of the tree. I huddle in a group of monkeys when they are feeling sweet and not particularly violent. But a few days ago a local vendor offered me his old shed at the edge of the forest.

DSC_0268 (2)

 

I stay in there and sleep on a little mattress. I haven’t told the monkeys where I go to sleep because sometimes you just need a nice nap without your hair being ransacked for bugs.

It does get lonely sometimes. There is a torch I use if I can’t sleep. I read a book  and then I think about how lonely I am. Then I promise myself to cut down on the alcohol because it makes me feel sad.

But the next morning I’m back with the monkeys and I’m happy again and we party on.

 

 

Categories: Humor, Renovations | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Celebrating International Mate Day

YESTERDAY Garrett the drop bear started crying while singing a variety of songs like Walzing Matilda and Down Under.

“What’s wrong Garrett?” I asked.

“It’s Australia Day, and I’m not there for it!” he said. Too right! How could I have forgotten!

My exaggerated accent returned. “Fair dinkum,” I said, “Too right ay?” and Mojo asked me why my voice went nasally. He handed me some cold and flu tablets.

That might help your blocked nose, Mojo said.

You beauty, Mojo!

Garrett was right. It was Australia Day, and it seems wrong for both Garrett and I that our feet aren’t on the rich red soil of our land, eating sausages and drinking beers and painting our faces and waving Aussie flags with kangaroos wearing punching gloves.

kangaroo flag

Or getting into a punch up at the beach after debating whether we call particular footwear “thongs” or “pluggers.”

thongs

Mojo laughed when Garrett and I told the others how to celebrate. “But thongs are ladies underwear.”

Shut your bloody mouth, Mojo!

So we decided to make a day of it to cheer up Garrett. But instead of making it exclusive by calling it Australia Day, we decided to share our love to all the Balinese by substituting it to International Mate Day. Sometimes our politicians between the countries fight and squabble with their little power trips and ego. And maybe we need to use our national holidays to embrace our similarities than to use it to encourage xenophobia. The Monkey King has spoken!

All the monkeys ran around trying to get everything ready for International Mate Day. Garrett stopped crying. He started singing a song I’d never heard of before, by an Australian band named Gyroscope. Chompy heard him and joined in, with his acoustic guitar. 

Some of the little monkeys found some paint and drew on our white tiger, Bitey. They painted his whiskers gold and splattered stars all over his body. He kept trying to lick the paint off and then they would draw them on again.

Mojo went to the shops and came back with some shrimp. “Now lets put these shrimp on the barbie!” he said with a wide grin.

Don’t worry, I made him take the shrimp back. He returned with a box of sausages. “Snags,” I reminded him. “We call them snags” And my little disciple said “you beaut! Mate, lets eat these snags!”

I told him we didn’t eat snags when they were raw. Fortunately, Abu and Timmy had been working on making some sort of barbecue (“barbie”) from all the spare scraps of tin they could find across town. Jo-Jo cleaned the grill and then we lit the fire and put the “snags” on.  The other monkeys, led by Benji, went to the nearby safari zone to borrow some kangaroos.

They had to drag a pair of kangaroos back in dog collars but when the kangaroos saw what we were trying to do, they were delighted to get involved. We couldn’t find some gloves but they had an exhibition match anyway in the middle of the courtyard. The monkeys and the local Balinese men – who raced down when they learnt what was happening – took bets on the winner. As the “barbie” caught on fire,  I wondered what sort of monstrosity we had turned Australia Day into.

“Yeah, I don’t feel it either,” Garrett said. “I think the secret to Australia Day is not giving a damn about it. And we tried too hard.” Then he handed me a pair of thongs. “Happy Australia Day, mate.” I put them  on my feet and I thanked him for the thongs.

“Thongs! They are pluggers!” he said, and he tackled me in the creek when I argued with him. “They are thongs!” I screamed, and the kangaroos jumped into the water.

“Ay, break it up!” the kangaroos said, holding both of us back from each other. “It’s not worth it, ay.”

“Snags are ready, get em while they’re greasy,” Mojo shouted.

Categories: holiday, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Magic faraway lands

THE monkeys have lately been preparing for Tree Force, a renovation show in which the monkeys must build us a tree house.

They’ve been showing me the plans.

My throne room will be inside the trunk of the tree. I will sit my arse on the finest red cushions. Some of the fools brought up maroon ones, and so they lost points at the end of the episode. The video camera even showed me with a frowning face to prove I was unhappy.

The throne will have lots of swords sticking out of it, so that it’s spiky. I’ve been told by the King’s hand, Jo-Jo, that swords decorating a throne is the in thing this season. But we’ll soften the ends by sticking on marshmellows and bananas.

This will serve two reasons. First, being king is hungry work. And second, sharp edges and monkeys will cause the workplace health and safety lady to faint out of the tree and onto the concrete path below (oh, what’s that? The concrete is a hazard?! We’ll have to move the trees away from the path? Damn you. Has this world of workplace health gone completely mad?).

There will be a slide, spiralling down the inside of the tree. I am insistent on this. The monkeys are working on the tunnel now, but seem to be using the pickaxes on each other more than on the wood. I am also making the monkeys build a giant ladder that will stretch above the clouds, which every dumb monkey knows summons magic faraway lands.

tree house drawing

Categories: Renovations, television shows | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Tree Force

AFTER spending a few weeks with Dad and six monkeys in a fancy villa for Christmas holidays, I’m finally back in the monkey forest. Dad dropped us off at the forest gates this morning and threw each monkey out individually.

“You have all been horrible,” he said to us as he rubbed Mojo’s bite mark on his forearm. “Good riddance,” he said as he slammed the door. The car screeched away.

Rafiki started crying. This was surprising. He puts on such an arrogant persona, hates everyone, that I hadn’t noticed until then that he almost worshiped my dad. Later, I heard him mutter that my dad should be the king, not me.

I was relaxing in my favourite tree after ordering one of the monkeys to bring me an ice tea, when Gina climbed up the ladder. She didn’t look happy to be in the forest. But her boss had ordered her to come and tell me in person – because I smashed my phone after Gina and I used Bitstrip photos to argue – that the television executives were hoping to use the monkeys for another television show. A BETTER television show than the last one, which is a relief because Big Monkey was a terrible idea.

This show will be called Tree Force.

So right now the monkeys are being taught by professional renovators the basics how to build and renovate. The idea is that the monkeys will work together in pairs to build rooms around the tree while they bicker and squabble and use power tools to hurt each other (which apparently makes good TV).  Supposedly, in four weeks we’ll have a super tree house.

Maybe like this!

images.businessweek.com

images.businessweek.com

But I have my doubts.

Have the producers forgotten these are just damn monkeys? What madness is this? Monkeys can’t build tree houses. I wouldn’t even trust the monkeys with a hammer.

At the moment Mojo is at the foot of the tree, working on the front porch. I just hope he knows what he’s doing with that chainsaw.

Categories: Humor, television shows | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Cooking with MK: Potato chip sandwiches

Cooking is an important art, lost to this day and age. Our parents have had better things to do than teach us to prepare foods. Tragically, much has been lost.

However, cheer up, because today I will teach you how to prepare potato chip sandwiches. Or as is known in okay-Britain…crisp sandwiches. Yummy!

It’s a perfect recipe for beginners.

Chip sandwiches

(serves 2, or one greedy person). You will need:

X4 slices of white bread

X1 tub of margarine (I prefer Nuttalex but it doesn’t really matter)

X1 packet of Pringles chips (it doesn’t matter which flavouring, but I recommend salt and vinegar as it really fuses with the bread and margarine flavours)

Some sweet chilli sauce. OR barbeque sauce. (note: to alter your experience, experience by adding other condiments and dishes)

Taken from wikihow.com

Taken from wikihow.com

Preparation time: 10 minutes. Maybe five, but it does depend on how efficient you are. I have known people complete a sandwich in three minutes but these are expert chefs.

1)      Butter your bread. Spread the margarine on generously

2)      Layer the chips onto the bread. To make it easier in step 4, I suggest you only put the chips on half the slices of bread.

3)      Squirt on the sauce

4)      Combine two pieces of bread together so that the buttered sides are in the middle.

5)      Oh, you probably should put it on a plate. If you’re fancy, you might cut the sandwich in half but it can be difficult as it may scatter the chips.

6)      Enjoy! The most important step of all

 Reviews:

Mojo: “You make it look devilishly simple. Cheers, big ears!” 4 stars

Rafiki: “Cooking with Monkey King? Cooking? You have just taken a simple snack we know of, and then wasted all our time describing how to do it in detail. Consider yourself un-followed.” 1.5 star

Gordon Ramsay: “I wish you’d jump in the oven. That would make my life easier.” No stars provided (I interpret the comment to mean this infamous chef is intimidated that I might be in business).

Anyway, here’s a cute monkey picture I took just to fill up the picture quota.

DSC_0886_edited-web

Categories: Animal photography, Food, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Letter from Inuka the polar bear

I had hoped that the Bundy Rum bear would visit Ubud to celebrate my 24th birthday with me. Despite all the letters I sent out, I never heard back from him. It was my birthday earlier this week, and he wasn’t there. So I proclaimed he would be an enemy of the kingdom.

But last night I received a lengthy comment on my WordPress account, that I wish to share:

DEAR MONKEY KING

I hear that it is your b’day. Happy 24th, you crazy old bugger!

I am not the Bundy Rum bear, though for you I wish I could be. In fact, I’m not even sure he really exists. Like any minority, polar bears all know each other. Besides, a free polar bear giving out alcohol seems a little too good to be true.

My name is Inuka, and I am a star attraction at the world famous Singapore Zoo.

DSC_0127_edited-1

I have heard tales of your exploits. Some of the birds (mainly the charitable and religious hornbulls) sneak out of their cages at night and tell tales to the isolated exhibits (like me!). They are the zoo’s grapevine, a way for us all to connect (who needs the local cafe, am I right?). They usually get the stories about you from the monkeys…and who knows where they get them from. Rumour has it that BJ (a proboscis monkey) owns a T-shirt with a printing of you on it. Tell me, are you in the band The Doors, or am I thinking of someone else?

Jim Morrison

Is it true you took out a bunch of lesbian vampires living in Ubud? And that you all had a good time at the Boom Boom Bar? And that you also rose from the dead to seek revenge on your killers? And that you escaped a deserted island by riding on sea turtles?

I wish I could come to Bali and be a part of these adventures. But it would be too hot and expensive to my kind keepers. Instead, I will ask the birds to pass this long message to an animal that can write it down. I believe the orangutans have internet privileges and can find your blog.

I also wish I could wear shining armor so you could ride me into battle. We’d make a ferocious sight! You’d chop enemies with your sword, and I’ll chomp off their head.

Taken from Celwalls.com

Taken from Celwalls.com

Even though life forces us behind barriers that we can never break through, may we never stop believing that we can follow our far-fetched ideas.

Keep living the dream!

Inuka, XOX

Categories: Humor, letter | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Bitstrip War’s final battle: Even Monkey Kings can be losers

THERE’S this girl called Gina. She’s a TV presenter. She’s hot. I don’t think I’ve mentioned her before.

Regular viewers of my blog might be rolling their eyes right now saying “dude!”

Anyway, for a while she was disinterested and tried to ignore me as much as possible. And then we became…well…frenemies by insulting each other through Bitstrip photos. I liked to call the battles The Bitstrip Wars.

I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. Surrounded by the monkeys I cared for in the heart of Bali, and insulting the girl I had the hots for.

But then I got into huge trouble when I sent this photo:

BitstripwithGina7

After a few days of silence – making me sweat my body weight mind you – she sent through a Facebook message.

GINA: You’re right, that is horribly inappropriate! Are you crazy? My fiance checks my Facebook page. He doesn’t want us to be friends anymore. He thinks you like me.

MONKEY KING: Oh Boo hoo! That’s nothing if you snapchatted with me.

GINA: I don’t think I ever want to.

MONKEY KING: You’re a strong, fierce, independent woman. Be friends with whoever you want to be friends with.

GINA: Stop being a patronising jerk. And no more naked photos! Or that’s it.

MONKEY KING: Only if YOU stop sending me naked photos. Chompy finds them a little arousing.

So then she sent me another Bitstrip photo. Except this photo was different. Before, it was harmless sexual innuendo, pen dropping and teasing.

Bitstrip with Gina9

MONKEY KING: Wow, just a little hurtful, Gina.

GINA: What? That’s hurtful?

MONKEY KING: Yes, I’m…hurt…Gina. I thought we had something going.

GINA: Oh shut up.

MONKEY KING: Ooh, getting angry, are you Gina?

GINA: You really piss me off. Die, you creepy jungle sleaze!

So…ignoring the danger signs that suggested the subtle danger signs had gone from “Irritated” to “Anger” to “Hate”, I posted another Bitstrip to ease the tension.

As you do.

Bitstrip with Gina10

GINA: Ha ha ha. Comparing me to Jack Nicholson? Oh honey. Is that the best you’ve got?

Bitstrip with Gina11

You would be surprised how many people have called me “crazy” or a stoner  or “heavily medicated” or like Brad Pitt’s character in 12 Monkeys (love that movie!!!).

After a while you get weary of the judgement. I know I was being a bit sensitive, and was letting Gina wind me up too easily.

So I got a bit carried away, trying to make a joke.

It’s a defence mechanism.

Bitstrip with Gina12.2

And it’s been half a week, and there was no sign of what she thought of my “proposal” until this morning, when I noticed she unfriended me on Facebook.

The Bitstrip Wars were over. And I was left with a sour taste and a broken phone (because I threw it at the ground), realising an important lesson: that maybe in war, there are no winners.

Even Monkey Kings can be losers.

Categories: Humor, Romance | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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