Those Crazy Monkey Days

I was just hitting the keys randomly. But every time I finished a page I found that I had produced, a variation of, a story about a bunch monkeys.

There were variations where the monkeys smoked, wore jackets, had hats, spoke French, and all kinds of other things--but every time they had typewriters.

In the stories the monkeys were all typing madly on the typewriters.

They had a deadline.

They were required to write newspaper stories about International Terrorism, for Fringe Newspapers, in order to earn food pellets and bottles of whisky.

My job--in the stories--was to create new Fringe Newspapers and keep the monkeys from fooling around too much.