So there we were, Daphne, Doris, Des, Jeremy and I – minding our own business in the monkestry, and setting up for bingo night, when who should knock on our door but Jen and her little friend Tonic.
Doris opened the door for her and Jen proceeded to do one of those kissy faces that mean ‘I am going to pretend to like you now. I will do this by kissing you – please kiss me back.’
Doris did not pucker up. In fact she grimmaced. Imagine my surprise, then, when Jen miraculously transformed into a clown to ‘try and cheer the old girl up!’
Quickly, I ushered Jen and Tonic into the kitchen. I had seen Doris blow her top before. (There is an unwritten rule at the monkestry – don’t call Doris ‘old’ or she will smack you in the face.)
After we had all had some milk arrowroot biscuits and a cup of tea, I took her to see Jeremy. He was sitting in his corner, writing poetry. He was sad and angsty. Gosh, I hate it when he is angsty. I turned, and lo! Jen had transformed again! This time into a cute, fluffy bunny!
Jeremy immediately started patting her ears and stroking her whiskers. He called her ‘Bun-bun’ and I vomited a bit in my mouth.
I grabbed Jen and yelled at her in Monkese so Jeremy wouldn’t understand. ‘How in the world do you do all these presto-changeo transformations?’ I shouted. ‘You are confusing me and putting my plain robes to shame! Eek-eek!’ I think Jen felt threatened by my outburst, because then, before my eyes, this happened:
‘Arr!’ she said, ‘Beware me cutlass or thy shall be made mincemeat!’
This was dangerous! ‘How can I put her off?’ I wondered. ‘How can I make her lose her concentration?’ And then I had the answer!
‘Ahem,’ I garrumphed, ‘you’ve gained a bit of weight, haven’t you?’
I thought I had her. No lady likes to be told that! But I was wrong. In an instant, she LOST 90% OF HER BODY WEIGHT!
‘That’s it!’ I shouted. ‘No more crazy costume changes, no more dismantling of the fragile social structures here at the monkestry, take your little friend Tonic, and BEGONE!’
She tried to distract me by doing this…
But I averted my eyes and held out my monkifix that hangs around my neck. Jen turned back to normal. ‘Fine,’ she sighed, ‘but can I at least use the toiley?’
I refused. ‘Des is cleaning it right now and he don’t wanna see you’
Tonic, who had until now been quiet and shy, walked out from behind Jen’s legs and kicked me in the shin with his pointy rock ‘n’ roll shoes.
As I hopped about, groaning in agony, Jen walked to the door, jumped into her exiting cannon, put on her pizzaball costume, and blasted off into the who-knows-where. (Tonic took a taxi.)
Addendum:
I have been feeling a tad guilty about how I treated our visitors. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think that Jen thinks that what others think about how and what she thinks will affect their thinks about her. Think – how many times did she change her appearence here today? She seems to be someone ill at ease with her appearance. Poor little Jen. I feel sorry for her. She really IS like a fragile bunny, needing the wisdom of a monk who is also a banana-loving monkey. And so, I have recorded the following special message, just for her special little face…
Monk Monkey 