On a bright and breezy morning in the little countryside farm, CUTIS the farmer was in high spirits. His house stood surrounded by green fields, fruit trees, and the cheerful chatter of animals. Living with him were two very important companions—his loyal baby monkey, Lulu, and his gentle old father. Together, they made a warm but often chaotic household.
That day started like any other. Dad sat in his wooden chair outside, sipping hot tea while watching the sunrise. Lulu, the baby monkey, bounced around the porch railing, nibbling on a banana and occasionally trying to steal a sip of Dad’s tea. CUTIS, however, seemed unusually restless. He had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and kept pacing back and forth across the yard like a man with a secret.
“Why is CUTIS walking like a crab?” Dad muttered, raising an eyebrow.
Lulu tilted his head, scratched behind his ear, and squeaked softly as if asking the same question.
Suddenly, CUTIS dropped to the ground and began crawling on all fours. He puffed his cheeks, stuck out his tongue, and made the strangest sounds—something between a chicken cluck and a goat bleat. Dad nearly dropped his teacup. Lulu froze mid-bite, half a banana still sticking out of his mouth.
“What on earth are you doing, CUTIS?” Dad asked, his voice half-worried and half-annoyed.
CUTIS didn’t answer. Instead, he galloped in a circle, flapping his arms wildly as though he were a bird trying to take flight. Lulu gasped, clutched his banana tightly to his chest, and scurried to hide behind Dad’s chair. The little monkey peeked out cautiously, his big eyes wide with worry.
For the next five minutes, CUTIS continued his bizarre performance. He rolled on the ground, leapt onto a haystack, and balanced on one leg like a flamingo. Dad rubbed his forehead, convinced his son had gone mad.
“Lulu, do you think your farmer friend has lost his mind?” Dad whispered.
Lulu nodded solemnly, as if to say, Yes, Grandpa, something is very wrong.
But just when Dad was about to scold him, CUTIS suddenly stood still. He lifted one finger in the air as if he had just solved the greatest mystery of life, then darted into the house. The sound of clattering pots and pans followed.
Dad and Lulu exchanged nervous glances. Moments later, CUTIS reappeared with a large cooking pot on his head like a helmet. He carried a broomstick in one hand and a ladle in the other, stomping like a soldier on parade.
“Cutis, my boy, what’s gotten into you?” Dad shouted, half worried and half ready to laugh.
Lulu squeaked loudly, clutching Dad’s arm. The baby monkey’s eyes darted between the pot-helmet and the broomstick weapon. He thought CUTIS might actually be preparing for battle.
Then, in his loudest voice, CUTIS declared:
“Attention! There is an invisible enemy in the yard. I must protect my family!”
Dad almost spat out his tea. “Invisible enemy? What nonsense!”
But CUTIS marched back and forth, swinging the broomstick like a sword. Every few steps, he would suddenly freeze, look around suspiciously, then lunge at empty air with his ladle.
Lulu squealed in fright and tried to climb onto Dad’s shoulder, wrapping his tiny arms around Grandpa’s neck. Dad sighed, patting the monkey’s back.
“Don’t worry, Lulu. He’s not fighting enemies. He’s fighting his own imagination.”
Still, CUTIS’s commitment to the act was so strong that Dad couldn’t decide whether to laugh or actually call for help. CUTIS leapt dramatically onto the porch, slammed the broomstick down like a flag, and yelled, “Victory! The enemy has been defeated!”
Lulu slowly peeked out again, curious. CUTIS bowed low to his “audience,” then tossed the pot-helmet aside. With a cheeky grin, he asked, “Did I scare you?”
Dad’s face darkened. “You nearly scared me into a heart attack! And look at poor Lulu—he thinks you’ve gone completely mad!”
Sure enough, the baby monkey was still clinging tightly, his little heart pounding. CUTIS laughed so hard he nearly fell over.
But CUTIS wasn’t finished yet. After a moment of silence, he suddenly began tiptoeing like a thief, sneaking behind bushes and peeking dramatically over them. He put his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shhh!” as though he were part of a top-secret mission.
Dad groaned. “Cutis, I don’t have the energy for this nonsense. What exactly are you trying to do?”
“Practice!” CUTIS answered proudly. “I saw a movie last night about spies and heroes. They crawled, they fought, they spied—and everyone clapped. I thought, why not give Dad and Lulu a free show today?”
Dad slapped his forehead. “So all this madness was just a performance?”
Lulu blinked, tilted his head, and then gave a small chuckle—half relieved, half amused. He scrambled down from Dad’s lap, marched up to CUTIS, and gave him a playful smack on the leg as if saying, Don’t scare me like that again!
CUTIS picked Lulu up and spun him around. “See, Lulu liked it!”
Dad shook his head, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Liked it? He nearly had a heart attack, same as me.”
But CUTIS didn’t stop grinning. He put Lulu on his shoulders and began parading around the yard, imitating animal sounds. First he barked like a dog, then neighed like a horse, then buzzed like a bee. Lulu, finally realizing it was all just play, burst into fits of monkey giggles.
Even Dad couldn’t resist anymore. The sight of his grown son acting like a circus clown was ridiculous but strangely heartwarming. The confusion and worry slowly melted into laughter. Soon, all three of them were chuckling together—the old man, the mischievous farmer, and the relieved little monkey.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, CUTIS collapsed onto the grass, out of breath but proud. Lulu curled beside him, nibbling his banana again, this time relaxed. Dad leaned back in his chair, shaking his head fondly.
“You’re a fool, CUTIS,” Dad muttered, “but you’re our fool. Don’t you dare scare us like that again.”
CUTIS winked. “No promises, Dad. Life would be boring without a little confusion.”
And though Dad groaned at the thought, Lulu clapped his tiny hands, clearly ready for whatever strange show CUTIS might put on next.
