#MFFFC

MFFFC — A Monkey’s Uncle

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“Look at that monkey sitting on that rock eating an ear of corn. Doesn’t he look like he could almost be human?” James said to his son, Kyle.

“Hey Dad, I have a question for you,” Kyle said. “When I was in Sunday school last weekend, the teacher was talking about how God created everything, including humans. But then she said some people don’t believe that. She said they believe that humans evolved from monkeys. But she said that if humans evolved from monkeys, how can monkeys and humans be alive at the same time? So there is a monkey,” Kyle said, pointing to the corn on the cob-eating monkey, “and I’m a human, and we are both alive now. So humans can’t have evolved from monkeys, right?”

“That’s a great question, Kyle,” James said. “Let me explain. Humans did not directly evolve from modern-day monkeys. Instead, both humans and modern-day monkeys share a common ancestor from which they evolved around 25 million years ago. So, in the vast evolutionary family tree, humans and monkeys are cousins. It’s like you and your cousin Mike. You and Mike both have the same grandparents but different parents. You and Mike are related, but you’re in different branches of the same family tree!”

“I’m going to tell my Sunday school teacher that she is wrong and that monkeys and humans can be alive at the same time because we have the same grandparents,” Kyle said.

“I’ll tell you what, Kyle,” James said. “You don’t need to correct your Sunday school teacher. I’ll talk to her and make sure she understands how evolution works, okay?”

Kyle thought for a moments and finally said okay. “But I have another question for you. If that monkey and I are cousins because we share the same grandparents, does that make you that monkey’s uncle?”

Written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. Photo credit: Bao Menglong on Unsplash.

MFFFC — What Were You Thinking?

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“What were you thinking, Sam, when you chose this place for our second honeymoon?” Cecelia asked her husband of 25 years. “It’s rained every day since we arrived and, according to my weather app, it’s supposed to rain pretty much the rest of our trip. Why Fucko Island, of all the places we could have gone?”

“It’s Fogo Island, Cecelia, not Fucko Island,” Sam said.

“Oh, Forego Island.”

“Fogo,” not Fucko or Forego.”

“It’s June, Sam, and the highs are in the upper 40s, so it’s both wet and cold,” Cecelia said. “What would make you think I’d like it here? This hotel is held up by pick-up sticks, for crissake.”

“There’s a lot to do and to see,” Sam defensively said. “It’s historic. There are hiking trails, interesting wildlife, good restaurants, and museums.”

“Speaking of museums, I noticed that one of the museums on this island is the Museum of the Flat Earth,” Cecelia said. “I know you’re a flat-earther. Is that why you wanted to come to this godforsaken place? So you could meet with like-minded lunatics who share your hallucination that the earth is flat?”

“Well, Cecelia,” Sam said, “we can go the museum tomorrow. They can make a very compelling case that the Earth is flat. You might actually learn something.”

Cecelia stood up, pulled her suitcase out of the closet, threw it on the bed, and started throwing clothes into it. “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I’m packing. I am flying back home tomorrow. I hate this place and I hate you.“

“You might as well unpack, Cecelia,” Sam said, and come with me to the museum tomorrow. The next international flight from Fogo Island isn’t until Saturday.

Written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. Photo credit: Erik Mclean on Pexels.

MFFFC — That’s Some Nerve!

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Blackie stopped in his tracks. He looked up at me gave a little whimper.

“Blackie, what’s the matter, boy?” I asked, patting his head.

“Will you look a that wall?” Blackie said. “That’s some nerve of whoever put that mural up. Why would anybody do such a thing? Why would anyone want to pay homage to a scavenger like a raccoon? They are dirty, filthy creatures who tip over trash cans and forage through everyone’s garbage, making a mess on the streets of our beautiful city. And they are scared little pussies, running away from me when I bark and chase after them, climbing up trees into the branches above and just out of my reach. And then they stare down at me with an air of unwarranted superiority. I piss on them.”

Blackie walked over to the barrier that separated the sidewalk and the wall upon which the mural was constructed. He lifted up his right rear leg and let out a long stream of urine.

“Come on, Blackie, don’t focus on that,” I said. “It’s not worth getting your back hairs up over a stupid raccoon mural. Now let’s go home because Mommy and I have a surprise for you.”

Blackie started wagging his tail, having forgotten all about the offensive mural. As we were walking back home I texted my wife and told her to be ready for us. When we walked through the door, my wife had everything ready and waiting. She set the watercolor painting on a small wood tripod that would be at Blackie’s eye level.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Blackie barked, as he ran up to my wife and started licking her face.

Written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. Raccoon photo credit: Frankie Hatton on Pexels. Blackie image credit: Fandango photo processed with Waterbrush.

MFFFC — Are You Talking To Me?

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Are you looking at me? Are you? What’s the matter with you? You’re being awfully rude just staring at me like that. Is something wrong with me. Do I have some poop hanging from my butt or something?

Listen up, pal. I’m a lemur and I’m proud of it, do you hear me? Look at this face. Have you ever seen anything cuter in your entire life? And that tail? Oh my, are not those black and white barber pole stripes to die for?

No wonder you’re fascinated by me. I’m beautiful. But you? Ha! You must be the bottom of the barrel. You don’t even have a tail, and what happened to your fur? Did someone just sheer you? I bet you couldn’t climb a tree if your life depended upon it, much less swing from branch to branch like I can. Wanna see?

How was that, not too shabby, huh? So why are you still staring at me? You’re giving me the willies, you know. Why don’t you go gape at the elephants or the tigers for a while? I’m going swinging for a while. Begone when I get back.

A few minutes later…

What? You’re still here. Okay I warned you. I’m going to fling a handful of my feces at you. Then, maybe, you’ll stop staring at me.

Ha! That always gets them to go away!

Written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. Photo credit: Molnár Tamás Photography™ on Pexels.

MFFFC — With a View

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“Should one of us head down the mountain to see if we can get a cell signal to call the park service about coming up here to retrieve his body?” Dave asked the others in the group.

“You know that Bob is — or should I say was — all alone in this world. No wife, no kids. And he always said he wanted to be buried someplace where there was a view,” Jerry said. “So maybe we should wrap him up in the canvas from his tent and dig a grave up here at the summit.”

“You’re right, Jerry, there’s no one down in the valley to take him, anyway,” Mitch said. So whaddya say, Dave, shall we start digging?”

“Hold on,” Dave said. “Don’t you think the authorities might find it suspicious if we tell them that he cracked open his head from a fall, so we buried him at the summit? They might want to examine the body, do an autopsy to make sure it was an accidental death and not a murder. We could all be suspects, you know.”

“Shit, Dave, you’ve been watching too many detective stories on TV,” Bob said. “We just need to bring his valuables with us, like his watch, his wallet, and his camera, hand them over to the park service, and take a picture of the grave we dug. As Mitch said, he’s got no relatives or anyone else to ask questions or demand an autopsy.”

Dave shrugged his shoulders and said fine. “You guys start digging and I’ll go find some wood we can use to make a cross.”

“Wait, wasn’t Bob Jewish?” Jerry said.

“He don’t care, Jerry. He’s dead,” Dave said. “Start digging. I’ll make the cross.”

Written for Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. Photo credit: eberhard ✋🏻grossgasteiger on Unsplash.