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He lived in a posh tree house in a big, magical tree. Because it was magic, the tree grew lots of different fruits you wouldn’t normally expect. There were bananas, mango, pecans, hot dogs, lemon meringue pies, and used-car salesmen. They all grew in the tree, rippened, and fell down to the ground at the base of the tree. Bo-bo liked to eat what fell from the tree. He especially like eating the salesmen as they were crunchy and went well with ketchup.

Bo-Bo had everything a purple monkey could ask for. Aside from his tree, he had many good friends, a ray gun, and a controlling interest in a small manufacturing concern which made imitation dog poop. He even had an arch-nemesis. (Contrary to popular belief, having an enemy is just as important for a fulfilling life as anything else.) Bo-Bo’s adversary was a koala named Mortimer. Mortimer was a jerk – a complete knee biter. Everyone with any taste hated him – even the puffins. However, to Bo-Bo’s chagrin, Mortimer’s snappy dressing and slicked-back hair made him popular among the less educated marsupials and reptiles.

Bo-Bo hated Mortimer with a passion. Mortimer hated Bo-Bo back. It had been that way for as long as anyone could remember. Not even Bo-Bo and Mortimer remembered the reason anymore. Some say Mortimer stole Bo-Bo’s girlfriend, Petunia, and sold her to a primate research lab. Some say Bo-Bo burned down Mortimer’s eucalyptus forest in a careless snowmobiling accident. Regardless of who actually started it, all the cool people blamed Mortimer, on account of Mortimer’s jerkiness. (The fact that Mortimer smelled like month-old refried beans didn’t help either.)

And so it was for many years. Bo-Bo lived the good life. Mortimer lived as good a life as he could, seeing as he smelled like refried beans. They hated each other. They traded insults. They tried to frame each other for murder. Life was good. They were happy.

Then it all changed.

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Usually, marshmallows don’t bend steel, but these did.  They bent it all the way to stinky — Stinky Weaselteats.  He was back and I felt gassy.  But then I did something no one expected.  I pulled off my nose and handed it to the tax collector.  He plotzed.

“I win!  I win!”, I screamed.  The unicorn pointed out that I just tied.  Stupid unicorns.  (They’re tasty, though.)

So, I went uptown and had a bagel with eye-liner.  Yummy.

Then, I was tired and went to bed.

The End.

I decided to head on anyway.  The moon trees swayed back and forth in the windless vacuum.  “The shouldn’t be doing that”, I thought.  It’s all some sort of penguin plot.  Damn flightless birds, they always do what you least expect.  Mordechai said “Woozle-Wuzzle” and I knew it was time to get going again.  Those grunglebunnies never give up.

Suddenly, an elephant swooped in from the sky and screamed “Press the big one on yours!”.  I tried to resist, I really did, but the temptation was too strong.  I gave in.  The whole world hummed and shook.  A tear silently rolled down my cheek as I contemplated what I’d done.  But it was too late.  I had to get going.  The kronk was near — I could smell him.

The elephant jabbered in my ear exactly the way tombstones don’t.  I didn’t know what to do.  I decided to charge.  No one wants to eat pizza forever.  As I hopped along, I could hear the kronk stomp along behind me.  It was gaining.  I pulled out my trusty antelope and fired a few shots over my shoulder.  I missed!  If I’d only have eaten my wheaties.  I knew I was almost finished.

The roar approached so slowly that I didn’t notice it.  It wasn’t until The Grasshopper sent a barage of orange marshmallows raining down on the grunglebunnies that  I was finally aware of her presence.  I was saved.  The  ‘Hopper landed and I clambered aboard.  The hatch closed and we took off.  With one shot of the fuzzy cannon, the kronk was turned into a big, steaming pile of blue.

We headed for home.  It was nice to finally be free.  But….  Oh, shazbot!   Where was Mordechai?!?!

I read about unthunking glunks today.  I’m glad I didn’t ever encounter any when I was young.  They would have been scary (and kinda green).  But the little monkeys liked it, so I guess I’m ok with it.  We also read about licking over two dozen tigers.  I’m not sure why a book like that talks so much about licking kitties.  It seems kinda wrong to me.

I don’t think the howler monkeys will ever go to sleep.  They keep screeching and throwing themselves off their monkey nests and onto the floor.  They are starting to leave tufts of fur everywhere.  I’m not sure how we’ll ever get rid of the smell.  And the monkey-chow all over the walls is unsettling, too.

They sky tasted all purple for a while, mid-afternoon.  I’ve never heard it say stuff like that to me before.  The razberries were mean to me, too.  The crustateons were my only friends — and that’s only because I poked them in the nose with a spoon with a hole in it.  Hurrah!!!!!

I happened by some fresh cement today.  So, I had to stop and write my name in green sign language.  The clowns and squirrels chased me for a while, but my unicycle was faster than theirs.  Thank goodness for hot dogs.  If it wasn’t for poultry like that, I’d probably be stuck grading college exams — and that’s stinky, let me tell you!

Well, I’ve got to go because it’s that time.  Have a good monkey!

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