Morning sunlight filtered into the small wooden house where CUTIS’s family lived, warming the floorboards and illuminating the aroma of roasted peanuts that Mom had prepared the night before. She kept them in a big woven basket near the kitchen corner, planning to grind them into a special sauce for dinner. But in the house, two little troublemakers—CUTIS and his tiny monkey friend—had their eyes on those peanuts long before Mom ever touched them.
CUTIS woke up before everyone else, tiptoeing through the hallway with a mischievous grin. The baby monkey, who slept curled up at the foot of his bed, instantly sensed adventure. He scrambled up CUTIS’s shoulder, wrapped his tail around his neck like a furry scarf, and squeaked softly as if asking, “What are we doing today?”
CUTIS whispered, “Shhh! We’re going to cook, but don’t tell Mom!”
The monkey clapped his tiny hands in excitement. Cooking, to him, meant cracking nuts, stirring bowls, and sometimes stealing fruit—funny chaos every single time.
They peeked into the kitchen. Mom was outside hanging laundry, humming peacefully, completely unaware that two miniature chefs were preparing to rob her of the main ingredient for dinner.
CUTIS motioned like a spy commander. The baby monkey nodded intensely, even though he didn’t understand. He just knew it was going to be hilarious.
Together, they tiptoed toward the peanut basket. CUTIS gently lifted the cloth cover, and instantly the smell hit them—warm, roasted, irresistible. The monkey’s eyes grew so wide they felt like they might pop out. He dove headfirst into the basket, arms swimming through peanuts like a kid playing in a pile of leaves.
“Hey! Quiet!” CUTIS whispered, trying not to burst into laughter.
But the monkey popped his head up with two peanuts stuffed in his mouth and two more in his hands. CUTIS almost fell over trying not to laugh out loud.
They filled CUTIS’s little cooking bowl with peanuts, but the monkey kept adding more—much more. CUTIS whispered, “No, no, that’s enough!” but the monkey continued stuffing peanuts like he was preparing for winter.
Finally satisfied with their loot, they sneaked the bowl out of the kitchen and ran behind the house to their “secret cooking station”—a flat stone they called their stove. CUTIS had a small toy pan, and the monkey had a tiny stick he used for stirring. Neither of them had any idea how to actually cook peanuts, but that didn’t matter. In their imagination, they were world-class chefs.
CUTIS pretended to light a fire by rubbing sticks together dramatically. The monkey copied him, rubbing two sticks so fast that he fell backward into the grass. CUTIS laughed, helped the monkey up, and said, “Chef Monkey, you’re doing great!”
Finally, CUTIS placed the peanuts in the toy pan. The monkey puffed his cheeks and blew as if blowing fire onto the pretend stove. CUTIS played along, wafting imaginary heat with his hands.
A few minutes later, CUTIS announced, “Peanut soup is ready!”
The monkey squeaked excitedly and brought a leaf bowl he had picked earlier. They scooped the pretend “soup” into the leaf and sat cross-legged, slurping nothing but air and peanuts. But the monkey was happy—extremely happy. He licked the empty leaf like it was gourmet cuisine.
CUTIS giggled, “You’re so silly!”
But their fun didn’t stop there.
The monkey grabbed a peanut, climbed onto CUTIS’s shoulder again, and tried to crack the shell by whacking it on CUTIS’s head.
“Ouch! Don’t use my head as a tool!”
The monkey tried again—this time using the stone. The peanut cracked in half perfectly. The monkey puffed up proudly, chest out like a little hero. CUTIS applauded, and the monkey took a big bow.
They continued “cooking” different peanut meals—peanut stew, peanut salad, peanut pancake, even “peanut noodles” made by rolling peanut shells into long pieces. None of it made sense, but to them, it was five-star dining.
Everything was perfect… until CUTIS heard a familiar sound.
The sound of Mom’s footsteps.
“Oh no!” CUTIS whispered, freezing.
The monkey froze too, mid–peanut toss, peanut still in the air above his hand.
Mom stepped outside, looked around, then called out, “CUTIS? Why is the peanut basket half empty?!”
CUTIS gulped.
The monkey gulped too.
Mom was approaching.
CUTIS quickly hid the toy pan behind his back, while the monkey sat on the stone pretending to meditate, eyes shut tight, hands together like a mini monk. CUTIS tried to hide his laughter.
Mom stepped into the backyard and saw the scene: CUTIS acting suspicious, peanuts everywhere on the ground, and the monkey sitting like a holy statue.
“What… are you two doing?”
CUTIS tried to stay calm. “Uh… we were… practicing cooking.”
Mom looked at the monkey, who now opened one eye slowly like he was checking whether the danger had passed. She burst into laughter.
“You two little chefs! Those peanuts were for dinner!”
CUTIS lowered his head. “Sorry, Mom.”
The monkey mimicked CUTIS, lowering his head dramatically until he fell forward and rolled in the grass.
Mom sighed, trying not to laugh. “Next time, ask me first. If you want to cook, I’ll show you how. But don’t sneak off with my ingredients!”
CUTIS nodded enthusiastically.
The monkey hopped onto Mom’s leg, hugging her shin, trying to win forgiveness with his cuteness. It worked instantly.
Mom crouched and picked him up. “You little peanut thief.”
The monkey poked her cheek with a peanut shell, as if offering it back in apology.
Mom shook her head with a smile. “Alright, alright. But you’re helping me clean up.”
CUTIS and the monkey looked at each other, then at the field of peanut shells scattered everywhere.
Both sighed dramatically in perfect harmony.
Mom laughed again. “Come on, little chefs. Let’s go clean—and maybe, after that, we’ll cook something real.”
CUTIS cheered.
The monkey climbed onto Mom’s shoulder and started drumming on her head with two peanut shells like tiny bongos. Mom pretended to be annoyed, but she couldn’t stop laughing.
By the time they finished cleaning, the sun was lower in the sky, and CUTIS felt proud. The monkey felt proud too—especially when Mom gave him a real peanut to eat as a reward.
Later that evening, Mom cooked actual peanut sauce for dinner, and CUTIS and the monkey sat nearby, watching closely like serious culinary students.
The monkey tried to copy Mom’s movements, stirring his own empty bowl with intense concentration.
CUTIS whispered to him, “Next time, we cook with Mom, okay?”
The monkey nodded—and then immediately stole another peanut.
CUTIS burst into laughter.
Mom shook her head.
And that was how the cutest, funniest peanut heist turned into a day full of laughter, learning, and a whole lot of monkey mischief.
