This is what happens when I don't get enough sleep. Totally not edited, btw.

Tell me a story, Khay.

I don't want to.

Aw, come on. Please?

I said I don't want to. If you want a story so bad, why don't you tell one?

You owe me one.

How come I always owe you a story? Something must be wrong with your record keeping.

Nah. Seems to come out right every time to me.

I saw your grade in Algebra. That's not reassuring.

Come on. You know you're going to. Might as well give in now before I take your pants and make you.

Alright! Fine. A short one.

Sounds good. No promises on the pants though.

I wouldn't have believed one if you made it, little brother.

The monkey king had a secret. While that's not really that strange among kings, since he was a monkey king, there wasn't much normal about it. He didn't have a secret past. He didn't have a secret weakness. He didn't have a secret mistress, power, sword, or lingeage that could be traced to the gods sitting in judgment over the jungle's rain or mountain's clouds. He didn't even have a secret fondness for unusal flavors of ice cream. In fact, being a monkey, he didn't have much fondness for ice cream at all, having not encountered it.

What he did have was a secret dream. Locked away in the darkest, deepest part of his heart, the monkey king longed to be not a monkey or king but an ordinary, human boy.

The monkey king never told anyone his dream. Not his parents, or brother, or the dozens of friends that traveled with him through the jungles that was his kingdom. That wasn't as easy as it sounds, because monkeys, being monkeys, love to talk. About everything. Anything that pops into their mind is spoken out loud for all to share and laugh about. That was what being a monkey was about, particularly for these monkeys. Secrets were unknown among the monkeys in his kingdom.

No, it wasn't easy for the monkey king to have a secret. But he wasn't king of the monkeys for nothing.

What was his name?

Who?

The monkey king. He has to have a name, doesn