The small village was quiet as always, but on this particular morning, something unusual happened. CUTIS, the kindhearted yet sometimes mysterious farmer, returned from town carrying a thick stack of money in his hands. His face looked calm, almost too calm, as if he were hiding something.
Dad, who was preparing breakfast for the family, noticed immediately. Beside him, the baby monkey, always quick to sense excitement, tilted his head curiously, his big round eyes staring at the bundle of cash.
“CUTIS,” Dad asked slowly, “where did you get all that money?”
The farmer didn’t answer right away. He placed the money carefully on the wooden table, like it was something fragile. The baby monkey scrambled over, touching the edges of the bills with his tiny fingers, then looking back and forth between CUTIS and Dad. He squeaked softly, clearly confused.
Dad folded his arms, his brow furrowed. “You’ve never had this kind of money before. Tell me the truth, son. Did you do something wrong?”
CUTIS finally looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes revealed a hint of mischief. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s not what you think. I didn’t steal it. I earned it.”
The baby monkey let out a chatter, as if trying to say, Earned? How? His tail curled nervously around the leg of the chair.
But Dad wasn’t convinced. “Earned it? Doing what? You’ve only been away for a few hours. No honest job pays that much in so little time.”
CUTIS sat down and took a deep breath. He looked at the money again, as though even he couldn’t quite believe it was real. “I… helped someone,” he explained vaguely.
“Who?” Dad pressed.
The farmer hesitated. The baby monkey climbed onto his lap, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. CUTIS patted his head but avoided answering.
The house felt heavy with silence. Dad finally sighed, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from his son. “Listen, CUTIS. I’m not angry. I’m just worried. Large amounts of money like this… they come with problems. People might think you did something bad. They might come looking for you. And we—” He glanced at the baby monkey, who was nibbling at the corner of the table nervously. “We don’t want trouble.”
CUTIS leaned back, suddenly looking serious. “Dad, I swear, it’s safe. A rich man from the city… he had a broken cart stuck on the road. Everyone else walked past him, but I stopped to help. It wasn’t easy—I had to use my strength and some clever tricks. He said I saved him hours of delay and possible loss of his goods. Out of gratitude, he handed me this money.”
The explanation sounded believable, but still, Dad was unsure. “A man gives you that much money just for helping? Doesn’t that sound strange to you?”
The baby monkey let out a loud squeak, bouncing slightly on CUTIS’s lap, like he was agreeing with Dad.
CUTIS rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… he also told me he doesn’t trust banks. He carries cash everywhere. He said I reminded him of his own son. He insisted I take it.”
Dad shook his head. “People don’t just hand over their fortune to strangers. There’s something about this that doesn’t feel right.”
The baby monkey, still restless, jumped off CUTIS’s lap and began counting the bills with his little hands, mimicking the way humans count. Of course, he couldn’t really add up numbers, but he kept making soft noises, like one, two, three… His tiny face looked worried.
CUTIS chuckled. “See? Even the monkey doesn’t trust me.”
But Dad didn’t laugh. He stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the dirt path that led to their home. “What if that man comes back, demanding it? Or what if other people find out? They might think we stole it. We live simple lives, CUTIS. Money like this can destroy peace.”
The farmer’s smile faded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, what do you want me to do, Dad? Return it? I don’t even know where that man lives.”
The baby monkey let out a sharp squeal and shook his head wildly, almost like he was saying, Don’t keep it!
That night, none of them could sleep well. Dad lay awake, thinking about dangers that came with sudden wealth. CUTIS rolled around, wondering if he should have refused the money. The baby monkey clung to CUTIS’s arm, as though protecting him from invisible threats.
The next morning, news spread quickly in the village. People had seen CUTIS with the stack of money. Whispers filled the market—some said he must have stolen it, others claimed he discovered treasure. By midday, two strangers appeared at their home, asking questions.
Dad stood firmly at the door, shielding CUTIS and the baby monkey. “What business do you have here?” he asked.
One man, tall and dressed in city clothes, explained, “We heard a story of a farmer helping a wealthy merchant yesterday. We are his assistants. He sent us to make sure the money reached the right hands.”
CUTIS stepped forward nervously. “It did. He gave it to me himself. Said it was a gift.”
The assistants exchanged glances, then nodded. “Then it’s true. He wanted to be sure you weren’t taken advantage of. He also sent a message: he hopes you’ll use the money wisely, not waste it.”
With that, they left.
Dad exhaled deeply, relief flooding his face. The baby monkey clapped his little hands, excited that the danger seemed to pass. CUTIS smiled, though still uncertain. “See, Dad? I told you it was fine.”
But Dad wasn’t finished teaching his son. That evening, he sat CUTIS down again. “Money isn’t just about numbers, son. It’s a responsibility. People will watch you now. They’ll judge you. If you spend it carelessly, you’ll attract envy. If you hide it, you’ll live in fear. The only way money is good is if you use it wisely—for others, for family, for building something meaningful.”
The baby monkey leaned against Dad’s leg, nodding in his own funny way, as though agreeing with every word.
CUTIS lowered his head. He understood now. “You’re right, Dad. I won’t let it ruin us. I’ll use it to make our lives better… but also to help the village.”
The baby monkey let out a happy squeal, jumping into CUTIS’s arms, hugging him tightly. Dad smiled for the first time that day.
In the weeks that followed, CUTIS kept his promise. Instead of wasting the money, he bought new tools for the farm, fixed their roof, and even shared some with struggling neighbors. Slowly, the villagers’ whispers turned into admiration.
And every time CUTIS held even a single bill of that large sum, he remembered Dad’s warning and the worried eyes of the baby monkey. The money no longer felt heavy with fear—it felt like a chance to do good.
For Dad and the little monkey, that was all that mattered.
