[Falx]: 648.Short Stories.Chapter 4: Monkeys

Chapter 4: Monkeys

Don't be fooled by the title this is not, infact, a chapter at all, but a short story taht sort of just came out while I was writing Chapter 4 of a completely different Story. Enjoy!

---

He wasn’t sure how they had come to be in his room, but there they were: hundreds upon hundreds of screaming, crazed monkeys. He supposed that he’d been spell casting in his sleep again, for he vaguely remembered dreaming about summoning something. He sighed. Why was it always monkeys? He shook his head, trying not to ponder the implications of the scores of primates clambering all over his things and swinging from his bookcases. He placed his head in his hands, hoping they hadn’t done too much damage to his research. He waved his hand, muttering a banishing spell. The monkeys popped out of existence and back to wherever it was that he had summoned them from. He sighed again, staring at the disarray of his once immaculate room. It was going to be one of those days.
  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his feet landed in something squishy as they hit the floor. He was almost afraid to look down. Half-eaten bananas. He grimaced in disdain as he scraped the fruit off of his feet. A humorless smirk found its way to his lips. At least they weren’t starving, screaming, crazed monkeys. He carefully picked his way to the bureau across from his bed. Half of the clothes he had so meticulously folded so that they wouldn’t wrinkle were strewn about the room. The other half looked as though the monkeys had decided to use them to build a nest. He reached into a drawer and rooted around until he found a robe that was nearly unmarred. He frowned at the huge stain on the front of it, wondering what it was, yet not sure that he really wanted to know. He pulled off his nightshirt, looking for some place that was vaguely clean to put it. Much to his delight, it appeared that the monkeys had not found his dirty clothes hamper. He opened the lid, ready to drop his nightshirt in with the wash when he noticed that the wash wasn’t there. He closed the lid, wishing that banishing spells could dispel not only the creatures summoned, but also any “gifts” they left behind. He threw the nightshirt on the floor. At this point, what was one more piece of clothing to have to pick up later? He pulled the clean robe over his head, frowning once again at the huge green splotch in the middle of it. He took a quick survey of the room, searching for his boots, but he didn’t see them. He frantically scoured the room, hoping that the evil little chimps hadn’t done anything untoward with them. The boots were nowhere to be found and he suddenly realized, with a knot forming in his stomach, that he was going to be late for class.
  Without bothering to take a quick glance at himself in the mirror, he ran out the door and down the long stone hallway to the classroom, slipping on the leftover bits of half-eaten banana adorning his bare feet. He slid to a halt outside the classroom, peering in through the window of the door. The class was still taking their seats. At least he wasn’t late. The door creaked as he opened it, and the eyes of his classmates turned to him. He wondered why they were all staring at him as he took his seat by the window. He figured that he must look winded from having run from his room in order to get to class on time, and the giant green stain on his otherwise white robe certainly wasn’t helping. He stared out the window and caught sight of his reflection. No wonder they were all staring at him. He looked like a cross between a deranged hedgehog and an insane clown. Apparently, the monkeys had decided to groom him while he slept. For a minute, he wondered how he had slept through the vile primates’ wanton desecration of his room and his person. He chuckled bitterly. His old roommate had always told him that he slept like the dead. He stared at his horribly unkempt image and touched his brown hair where it stuck out at odd angles from the top of his head. It was wet, just as he had feared. Monkey spit. He wiped his hand on his robe. After all, what was one more stain on top of everything else? He stared at the reflection of his face in the window, wondering where on earth the monkeys had found make up and why they felt it necessary to color him with it. He realized that it was probably best not to ask those questions. You never really knew when it came to monkeys. Besides, he was supposed to be paying attention to the professor, not worrying about his fate at the paws of the wretched little primates.
  Just then, something in the tree outside the window caught his eye. Dangling from the upper branches by their laces was a pair of dark blue leather boots. His boots! He tried to bring his attention back to his lessons, tried to focus on what the instructor was telling him about enchantments, but it was very difficult. He realized that he had left his ink, quill, and paper in his room. He wouldn’t be able to take notes on the lecture. Not that looking for them would have done any good. The monkeys had probably all but destroyed all three. He placed his head down on the table. It just wasn’t fair.
  A hand pressed an ink bottle and quill and some paper onto his lap. He lifted his head, placing the three gifts on the table and hurriedly beginning to take notes. He smiled over at the girl sitting next to him in thanks. Then he noticed his hands. They hadn’t been this hairy before, had they? He examined them more closely. Something about them seemed not quite human. Then it dawned on him. Monkey hands. What had those psychotic creatures done to him, and where in the world did they find polymorph potion? He quickly examined the rest of his person and sighed in relief. Apparently the damnable chimps had only been able to get it on his hands and not anywhere else. He looked up, only to find that the class was over and that the students were filing out of the room. He began to collect his things to leave when the professor asked to see him. He realized that his teacher probably wanted to have some words with him about his appearance and behavior in class as he trudged to the front of the room.
  “Master Carrik,” she began, “I’m worried about you. This is the fourth time you’ve come to my class unprepared and unmotivated. Your appearance is horrific! Why, you look as though you spent the night with a pack of crazed, screaming monkeys!”
  Carrik chuckled bitterly, “Yeah. Imagine that.”
  The instructor shot him a menacing glare.
  “I’m warning you Master Carrik: I’ll not tolerate your lip in my classroom and I won’t have any more of your monkey business!”
  Carrik turned to leave, not wanting to deal with the shrill little witch any longer.
  “Where do you think you’re going?” the instructor screeched. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong!”
  Carrik paused at the door, turning to face his professor.
  “You want to know what’s wrong?” he asked, smirking at the tiny quaking woman.
  “Of course I do,” she stated, her face beet red with ire, “I care about your well being, you wretched little wizard wannabe.”
  Carrik’s grin broadened.
  “Monkeys,” he said as he slammed the door behind him.