The tide had just gone out, leaving behind glistening pools of seawater along the rocky shore. The crabs were busy scuttling about, gathering scraps of seaweed, tiny shells, and bits of food left by the retreating waves. Among them was a clever little crab who had found a particularly delicious treasure: a piece of clam meat washed up near the rocks. With great effort, the crab carried it to a shaded spot and began to feast, clicking its claws happily.
But not far away, hidden among the mangrove roots, a little monkey was watching. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief. This monkey, known to his family as Lala, was always poking his nose into trouble. He loved fruits, insects, and especially anything new that others seemed to enjoy. So when his sharp eyes noticed the crab feasting, his stomach rumbled, and his mischievous mind began to work.
“Hmm,” Lala thought, licking his lips. “That looks tasty! I wonder what it is. Maybe I should have it instead of that crab.”
Without hesitation, the little monkey crept closer. He crouched low, his tail twitching with excitement. The crab, however, was not an easy opponent. It raised its claws in warning, snapping them in the air as if to say, “This is mine, don’t you dare!”
But Lala was fearless. With a playful squeak, he darted forward, reaching out his small hand to snatch the food. The crab tried to defend itself, snapping its claws toward the monkey’s fingers. Lala jumped back just in time, giggling at the close call. He wasn’t discouraged—in fact, the chase only made it more fun.
The crab scuttled sideways, dragging the piece of clam meat with determination. Lala, quick as lightning, darted around to block its path. With one sudden move, he grabbed the food and held it high, out of reach of the crab’s claws.
The crab stopped and stared, clearly furious. It waved its claws wildly, clicking angrily, as if shouting, “Give it back! That’s mine!”
But Lala only laughed. He stuck out his tongue, wiggled his tail, and took a playful bite of the food. The taste was strange but interesting—salty, chewy, and unlike the sweet fruits he usually ate. Still, the thrill of stealing it made it all the more delicious.
The crab, not one to give up, lunged forward and actually managed to pinch Lala’s hand. The little monkey yelped and dropped the food for a split second. Quick as a flash, the crab tried to drag it back toward the rocks. But Lala wasn’t about to lose now. He scooped it up again, leaping onto a higher rock where the crab couldn’t reach.
From his perch, he waved the food triumphantly. “Mine now!” his excited chirps seemed to say.
The crab paced angrily below, snapping its claws, clearly plotting how to get its meal back. Other crabs gathered around, curious about the commotion. They too raised their claws, forming a little army of defenders. But none of them could climb the rock to reach the mischievous thief.
Meanwhile, Lala’s mother, who had been busy grooming herself a few trees away, finally noticed the fuss. She turned her head and sighed deeply when she saw her little one teasing the crabs. With graceful strides, she made her way over to the scene.
Lala was too busy showing off to notice. He held the food above his head, squeaking proudly, taking exaggerated bites, and then pretending to toss the food down just to make the crabs panic. It was a game to him, but to the crabs, it was no joke.
His mother finally reached the rock and gave a stern grunt. That sound was enough to make Lala freeze. He knew that tone all too well—it was the sound of disapproval. Slowly, he turned his head, his cheeks still stuffed with the crab’s food. His mother’s eyes were firm, her body posture clear: “That doesn’t belong to you.”
Lala tried to look innocent, chewing slowly, his tail curling nervously. But his mother wasn’t fooled. She climbed up to him, plucked the remaining food from his hand, and tossed it back toward the crabs. The crab army quickly scuttled forward, reclaiming their prize with relief.
The little crab who had originally found the food seemed to puff up with pride, waving its claws as if to thank the monkey mother for her fairness.
Lala, however, pouted. He crossed his arms, squeaked in protest, and refused to meet his mother’s eyes. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t keep the food—after all, he had worked hard to steal it! But his mother gently tapped him on the head and groomed his fur, reminding him through her actions that kindness and fairness were important.
After a few moments, she led him back to the trees where the other monkeys were feasting on ripe bananas and juicy mangos. The moment Lala saw the sweet fruits, his frown melted away. He grabbed a banana, peeled it clumsily, and stuffed his mouth happily. Compared to salty crab food, this was much better.
Still, the adventure left its mark on him. Later, as he sat with his belly full, he glanced back at the shore. The crabs were eating together peacefully now, their claws moving busily as they enjoyed the food he had once tried to steal. Lala tilted his head and made a soft squeak—not quite an apology, but maybe a small acknowledgment that he had gone too far.
His mother, watching him quietly, seemed to understand. She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close. He leaned into her, comforted by her warmth. Mischief was in his nature, but he was slowly learning the difference between playful curiosity and unfair troublemaking.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, the forest grew calm again. The crabs retreated to their burrows, the monkeys settled in the branches, and little Lala curled up beside his mother. His eyelids drooped, and soon he was dreaming—dreaming of daring chases, waving claws, and maybe, just maybe, a crab that one day would share its food with him willingly.
And so, the day ended with a lesson learned: stealing might bring a moment of excitement, but sharing and fairness brought peace—and sweeter meals in the end.
