Sad little monkey

The sad little monkey sat on its bench and waited for his friend. He wished that almost made a rhyme, but he was content. Besides, who would waste his time to listen to a monkey poet? Humans. They would probably just give him a typewriter and reward him with a banana every time he wrote the word ‘Juliet’. But that was not what made him sad.

The sad little monkey pretended to wait. He knew his friend the bear wouldn’t come.That rhymed. Well not exactly, but it was good enough, indeed sufficient to appeal to what he thought to be a good ticker inside his fur covered silly flexible body. He hated the bear. The escape plan was masterminded in perfect fashion, elaborate, but yet simple enough for even a good natured bear to understand and execute. Yet, despite all the planning, the silly little bear managed in an uncanny way to screw things up and get his fat ass caught in a matter of minutes, while his pearly eyes were still thirsty for freedom.

The poor little monkey could not decide if he was sad or angry. All in all, how could he blame someone just for being stupid? Nonetheless, now thanks to bear’s stupidity he was alone, sad and un-monkey like. He hadn’t scratched his balls for hours now, and they were getting redder than his ass, but he had no inkling whatsoever of displaying his limited array of stereotypical and rather lewd habits. Stupid bear. Messing up his fragile and unstable psyche at any given opportunity. It did not make any sense, it did not add up with the cosmic karma.

The sad little monkey sat at the bench alone contemplating all these as the minutes went by. For a moment he did consider grabbing a paper from the bin, and pretend to read it in order to avoid any attention. He thought against it eventually. He couldn’t be arsed. Poor little sad monkey. He works at a circus now you know.