Deep inside the lush green forest, where sunlight danced between leaves and the sound of rustling trees blended with the chirping of birds, there lived a monkey unlike any other. His name was Miko, and he was famous—not for his strength, not for his speed, and not for his clever tricks.
Miko was known for something extremely unusual.
He was mysophobic—terrified of dirt, germs, mud, and anything even slightly messy. And he always wore one unique expression on his face: a wide-eyed look of horror mixed with absolute disbelief, as if the entire world had personally insulted him with filth.
While the other monkeys rolled in the mud, swung from vine to vine, and playfully wrestled on the forest floor, Miko tip-toed around with the careful precision of someone walking on hot coal. He spent half his day grooming himself, dusting off invisible specks, and inspecting his fur like a detective searching for clues.
Everyone in the forest knew him as:
“The monkey with THAT expression.”
Whenever mud splashed nearby—
Whenever another monkey tried to touch him—
Whenever he saw a dirty banana peel lying crooked on the ground—
Miko’s face scrunched up into a dramatic expression that made the whole forest laugh.
One sunny morning, Miko woke up to a nightmare.
Not a real nightmare—but what he considered one.
He looked at his reflection in the pond, expecting to see his fluffy, perfectly clean fur. But instead, he saw a horrifying sight:
A single leaf.
A tiny, harmless little leaf stuck on his shoulder.
“AHHHHHH!” Miko screamed, leaping backward so fast he splashed mud everywhere.
He stumbled, tripped, rolled, and fell straight into a puddle of sticky, brown mud.
The forest went silent.
Then—
Burst into laughter.
Miko’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and his face formed the exact expression everyone knew so well:
Utter disgust. Complete shock. Absolute tragedy.
“Mud! Mud on my fur! THIS IS A DISASTER!” he cried, shaking his arms dramatically.
Nearby, his best friend Tiki, a cheerful young monkey with absolutely no fear of dirt, giggled uncontrollably. “Miko, it’s just mud! It won’t kill you!”
“Won’t kill me?” Miko gasped. “Tiki, mud is FILTH. It has germs. Millions of germs. BILLIONS of germs!”
Tiki rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s go wash you in the stream.”
But before they could take a step, a strange sound echoed through the trees—
A deep growling rumble.
The other monkeys froze.
Even Miko stopped screaming.
From the bushes emerged a huge boar, covered in bristly hair and dripping wet from the swamp. He was angry, hungry, and charging straight toward the troop.
“Miko, run!” Tiki shouted.
The entire monkey family scattered up the trees—but Miko’s feet were still stuck in mud. His shock expression widened as he stared at the incoming boar.
“N-no… don’t come near me… you’re dirty!” he whimpered.
Tiki jumped down, grabbed Miko’s hand, and yanked him toward a tree. But the mud made him slip again and again.
“Hold on!” she yelled.
Miko tried harder to stand, but the mud suctioned around his legs like glue. The boar was getting closer—fast.
At that moment, something clicked in Miko’s mind.
Dirt didn’t matter.
Mud didn’t matter.
Germs didn’t matter.
Survival did.
With a determined scream—far less dramatic this time—Miko lunged forward, grabbing a long vine overhead. Tiki held onto him, and together they swung upward just as the boar rammed into the tree trunk with a loud crack.
Leaves shook.
Branches trembled.
But Miko and Tiki were safe.
They dropped onto a high branch, breathing heavily.
“You okay?” Tiki asked.
Miko looked down at his muddy arms, his dirty legs, his messy fur…
and surprisingly, he didn’t scream.
“I’m alive,” he said softly. “And dirt didn’t kill me.”
Tiki smiled. “See? You’re stronger than you think.”
But the moment of enlightenment lasted exactly three seconds.
Because suddenly—
Miko noticed a worm wriggling on his tail.
“AAAAAAGH!!! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!”
Tiki couldn’t help but laugh again. “There’s the Miko I know.”
The troop gathered around, relieved that both monkeys were unharmed. Some patted Miko’s back—making him cringe—and others teased him by shaking mud-filled leaves near his face. His dramatic expression returned instantly, causing more laughter to echo through the forest.
But something had changed.
Even though Miko complained nonstop…
Even though he scrubbed himself in the stream for an entire hour…
Even though he begged Tiki to check his fur for invisible dirt…
He couldn’t deny it:
Facing his fear had made him braver.
Later that afternoon, the troop decided to celebrate their survival with a feast—ripe bananas, juicy mangoes, and crunchy nuts. The monkey children played in a pile of leaves, throwing them at each other like confetti.
One leaf landed on Miko’s head.
His eye twitched.
His expression returned.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for another dramatic outburst.
But instead, Miko took a deep breath and said, “Leaf… tolerated.”
They cheered so loudly birds flew out of the trees.
Tiki grinned proudly. “Look at you! You’re improving!”
Miko looked slightly smug. “Well, I suppose I am a hero now.”
“You slipped in mud and screamed for help,” Tiki corrected.
“A courageous hero,” Miko insisted.
The troop burst into laughter again.
As evening fell, the forest glowed in warm golden light. Miko sat beside Tiki, watching fireflies dance above the grass.
“Tiki?” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I’ll ever stop being afraid of dirt?”
Tiki smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you don’t have to change everything. Just learn a little bravery each day.”
Miko nodded. “I can do that. I faced a wild boar today! That’s enough bravery for one lifetime.”
She nudged him playfully. “Or at least one week.”
Miko huffed proudly. “One month.”
They laughed again, their voices drifting peacefully into the night.
Down below, the boar had long disappeared, the forest had returned to calm, and Miko—though still very much mysophobic—felt a little stronger, a little wiser, and a little braver.
But one thing remained exactly the same:
Whenever something even slightly dirty appeared near him…
A leaf, a worm, a spot of mud, a splash of water—
His face would twist into that famous expression:
The legendary look of the mysophobic monkey.
And honestly?
The forest wouldn’t have him any other way.
The End.
