Saturday, April 26, 2014

Symeon Simian: Unfortunately not a Monkey's Uncle

Yup, yet again TDL has been postponed due to flagrant procrastination from we three authors of the blog. 
We realize the only reason mass uprising has only been prohibited by our hungry Wyvern which we prefer to call Please No, as that's usually the only thing its hears while defending our domicile.
Anyway, due to our so-forthing, we will be posting letters next week, along with a complimentary page of the Weekly Draconian, but for now, we put forward a recently cobbled together painstakingly created short story for the enjoyment of all ye who hearken to the Wyvern's Den.

Symeon the monkey swung in a gentle arc through the moist morning air, his hairy toes firmly lodged around the springy branch he was using as a swinging pendulum.
            At the apex of his swing, he realized his feet from the pliant branch and shot upwards, neatly catching the highest branch on the tree and wrapping his agile legs firmly around it.
            Bouncing slightly upside down with the branches recoil, Symeon blinked around his enclosure. What to do; what to do…
             The dartboard tacked to the far wall was already perforated with dart points past and present, and he had gone too long with it anyway. The swing-set was entirely too grounded, he much preferred his current vantage.
            Gazing from the computer, across the picture wall, platted with animal, human and strange unreal photos he guessed were fantasy from his handlers’ minds. Past the obstacle course and finally, ah, that was what he wanted.
            The 72 in. plasma TV perched invitingly beside a less enticing rock garden, complete with snaking wires and curving white objects he had yet to explore.
            Springing down to the packed earth and stone of the enclosure floor, Symeon loped over to the TV, snatching up a white object and fingering the TV’s sides until it lit up.
            Crouching back on his hairy haunches, Symeon squinted at the screen. Figures and bright objects began to bounce around the edges of the bright screen.
            Unsure, he prodded at his white object. A character on the screen sprung upwards unexpectedly. So the white object made it move.
            Over several minutes, Symeon mastered the controller, figuring out how to attack the other flamboyant characters on screen, how to move and evade, and finally, how to win.
            Hooting like his less civilized relatives, Symeon flung his controller at the screen in victory. He had mastered yet another thing. Leaping up, Symeon swiveled, looking for something new to conquer, there was so much to do in his room.
            Outside the long observing window, Doctor Povral sketched out a few words on his clipboard. The subject was coming along nicely. From where he had been looking at the opposite windows monkey, Doctor Manning joined Povral, swinging his completed clipboard beside him.
            “Anything new with the primary?” he inquired, squinting through the window. Povral need not answer, but did anyway. “Oh yes, Subject Symeon is coming along unexpectedly well.”
            Manning nodded, slightly awed by the room behind the window. “Good lord, there’s something you don’t see everyday.” Inside, monkey Symeon had found a hatstand and had begun to dance with it.
            “Make sure not to give it too much to do, it might rub off,” he said to Povral, watching the monkey with a nervous eye. The Doctor shook his head, laughing. “Come on doctor, honestly. What could a simian possibly ever do to us?”

Tell us what you think in the little box for words below, and while your at it, watch out for spelunking Giraffes.

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