Remember Monkey Masturbation
There is a place called Cruse Island where lives a monkey wiser than the rest of his cohort, who can count to ten and knows how to use twigs for tools. The island itself is dominated by a mountain from which the mainland can be seen in all its vastitude: this land, pleated by hills and draped by forests, is a promised land to the monkeys, and both their oldest and their bravest dare the waves and swim for new dreams on that other shore. But most are content to lounge in hot springs and imagine the life of humankind.
Now our wise monkey went about his business in the good humour typical to his kind. He plunged a twig into a hole in a tree and scraped out yummy nectar and licked it up. While he ate he idly touched himself, as monkeys are wont to do, and his thoughts turned to the bright red buttocks of the lady monkey he loved best. It was then that nature took its course and saw him stiffened, and a thought occurred in his monkey brain: if I am stiff at times, and this twiglet is stiff at all times, what is it like to be the twiglet? And a twiglet doesn’t love, he thought, so he banished all thoughts of his lady monkey. Instead, with a mind blank as fallen snow, he touched himself in steady intervals, just enough to keep up the blood, yet did so without any lust. He vowed to be hard for the whole rest of the day and thought the whole project very amusing.
He then came to his friends. Because it was winter they all sheltered together in the forest during the day and took to mountain hot springs at night. There were no predators on this island, so everyone was much more easygoing than the monkeys you may be familiar with. A monkey friend was playing a joke: he stood on his head and said “Nothing going on here!” which made everyone laugh, because monkeys are easy to make laugh. A lady monkey, the one loved best by our protagonist, strutted onto a branch and told everyone a joke, it went like this:
“Three humans walked into a tree. Ouch!”
Everybody laughed, so she kept going. As she told her joke she bounced upon the branch and let it flick about.
“No wait here’s what really happened. Three humans come to the forest,” she began. “One of them climbed the tree very easily, and the other humans were shocked: the climbing human was actually a monkey, but they couldn’t tell!”
“There is wisdom in this story.” The oldest monkey in the world, whose snow-white beard tickled his ankles, leaned upon his grandson and waved a shaking hand to the crowd. “It is said: monkeys and humans both have two legs and two arms. It is easy to imagine the confusion of a human, because they can not easily tell if a given two-armed, two-legged being is of human or monkey ilk, and look: if humans suffer such confusion, then who among us can say we are monkey or human?”
All the monkeys stood stock-still staring, such was the insight of their elder. But our wise monkey hero thought this was even funnier than the preceding jokes and fell on the ground laughing and kicked his legs all about toward the faces of those who noticed his rock-hard member. All the monkeys erupted into howls of wild abandon upon seeing his erection flail about, and the elder wheezed his way to the ground and said in jest, “Who among us is brave enough to sit on that seat?”
Of course many monkeys presented themselves, jostling each other for a place in line to take a seat upon our hero’s lap, an action they would mime before laughing hysterically and bounding away. And his best lady swooned and sighed as a jape, and fell from her branch into a pile of snow. All the laughing and fun everywhere made it difficult for him to keep up his boner and yet he endeavored as a winning athlete does the last leg of a race. He kept his hand in motion and, to keep his mind blank, counted all the friends he loved so much: two and a half tens of loved ones, confidants, allies in trying times, family, his doting mother in her old age, his cousins, his beloved (One day, maybe, he will be brave enough to kiss her on her red buttocks).
Soon, though, he left. He knew he’d never be able to fulfill his ambition amidst all the monkey clamour, and he feared that soon the lady monkeys would lead his mind to amorous places and his likeness to the twig would be snapped and discarded. Indeed, this monkey was wise about the flittings of his own mind, how it leapt from thought to thought as his body did from tree to tree, and thus he sought for isolation.
He climbed on three limbs up the snowy mountain, his right hand ever locked in mechanical motion. The cold wind doubled his trouble, but still he tried: only the hot spring spelled relief and, immersing himself in the water, he nursed his part back to hard health, and watched the falling of the sun. Soon my day would be over, he thought. Over on the mainland lived the humans and innumerable creatures that he had no idea of. If we live on this island, and this much land could support our monkey selves, how much more could be supported by that there—that land of boundless mystery? His erection faded during these cogitations.
The day had not ended but perhaps it was best to end the game early. He made furious downstrokes for one final effort then, hopping into the cold, he plunged his penis into a full pile of snow. The rush of cold in contrast to the heat burned and numbed his special part, and made him laugh and stomp his feet. What a funny feeling! he thought to himself, and he was excited to share what had happened with his friends. The cold had done its work and shrunk his dick to its smallest state. Around that time his beloved monkey friend arrived ahead of the others and, with a little chuckle, he turned and made a joke. “Look!” he said, pointing to his penis, “I replaced it with an acorn!”
She laughed and laughed, and the many monkeys of Cruse Island would soon arrive for their nightly bath.
It is because of this that, to this day, people say “remember monkey masturbation” when a friend becomes self conscious about their hobbies or interests. Pursue the zest of life with the ignorant kenning of a monkey. The people who love you will understand, like how nobody mocked our monkey friend in a bad spirit when he walked around all day with a nonsexual erection. Moreover, remember that what applies to monkeys also applies to humans for, as they say, “The meat of the monkey is the meat of the man,” but that’s another story entirely.