The afternoon air was warm and lazy, the kind of day where everything seemed calm and predictable. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. The farm was quiet—almost too quiet. That was usually the first sign that CUTIS was about to do something unforgettable.
CUTIS was not an ordinary little monkey. He was clever, quick, and always curious about everything around him. Most days, his curiosity led to harmless fun. But sometimes—especially when his ideas became a little too big—trouble followed close behind. On this particular afternoon, CUTIS was already hiding behind the wooden storage shed, peeking out with wide eyes and a mischievous grin.
Mom was nearby, feeding the chickens. Baby Diven sat close to her, playing with a piece of straw and giggling softly. Everything looked peaceful. But CUTIS had already started his plan.
Earlier that day, he had discovered a pile of empty metal bowls stacked neatly near the outdoor kitchen. To anyone else, they were just bowls. To CUTIS, they were a mountain waiting to fall.
He remembered how shiny they looked, how perfectly balanced they were. He remembered thinking, What would happen if I touched just one?
And he had.
The moment his little fingers nudged the bottom bowl, the entire stack collapsed with a thunderous crash. Clang! Bang! Crash! The noise echoed across the farm like a drum performance gone wrong. Chickens screamed and flapped in every direction. Diven squealed in surprise. Mom spun around, eyes wide.
CUTIS didn’t wait to see what happened next.
He ran.
Now, he was hiding.
Behind the shed, CUTIS pressed his back against the wood, heart pounding. His tail twitched nervously. He covered his mouth with both hands, trying to stay quiet, but a tiny giggle escaped. Even when he knew he had caused big trouble, CUTIS couldn’t help finding it funny.
From his hiding place, he peeked around the corner.
Mom stood in the middle of the yard, looking at the scattered bowls. She sighed—slowly and deeply. She didn’t shout. She didn’t call his name. That silence was far more frightening.
CUTIS swallowed.
He scurried to another hiding spot, squeezing himself behind a large water jar. From there, he could see everything. Mom was picking up the bowls one by one, stacking them again carefully. Diven toddled around her, still laughing at the noise from earlier.
The neighbors had noticed too. A few of them stood nearby, smiling and whispering, already guessing who the troublemaker was.
CUTIS curled up tighter, pulling his tail close. His face showed mixed emotions: fear, excitement, and a whole lot of pride. After all, the noise had been impressive.
Suddenly, CUTIS heard footsteps.
Mom was walking slowly, looking around—not angrily, but knowingly. She stopped near the shed. CUTIS held his breath.
“CUTIS…” Mom called softly.
His ears twitched.
She waited.
CUTIS stayed still.
Mom moved on, checking behind the water jar. CUTIS quickly rolled away, barely escaping her sight, and hid behind a pile of baskets. He pressed himself flat, eyes wide, trying not to laugh.
This hide-and-seek wasn’t planned—but it had become part of the fun.
Mom finally spotted a familiar tail sticking out from behind the baskets.
She stopped and crossed her arms.
“Ah,” she said gently, “I see.”
CUTIS knew he was caught.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned around. His face wore the most innocent expression he could manage. He tilted his head, blinked his big eyes, and let out a tiny apologetic sound.
Mom didn’t laugh—at least not right away.
She pointed to the baskets, then to the yard, then made a sweeping motion with her hand.
CUTIS understood.
His punishment wasn’t scary. It was… embarrassing.
Mom handed him a small cloth and gestured for him to wipe the bowls clean. Then, just to make it dramatic, she gently tapped his head and placed a bright cloth on it like a silly hat.
CUTIS froze.
Diven burst into laughter.
The neighbors laughed too.
CUTIS looked ridiculous—and he knew it.
But instead of sulking, he embraced it. He marched around dramatically, cleaning each bowl with exaggerated seriousness. He sighed loudly, paused to rest, and wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. Every move made everyone laugh harder.
Mom tried to stay serious, but she couldn’t. Her smile gave her away.
Once the bowls were clean and stacked again, Mom knelt down in front of CUTIS. She removed the cloth hat and gently wiped his face.
CUTIS leaned into her touch.
She hugged him, tight and warm, and tapped his nose lovingly. The lesson was clear: mistakes happen, but hiding only makes things funnier—and responsibility always comes after.
As the sun began to set, CUTIS sat beside Diven, sharing a quiet moment. He glanced at the bowls, then at Mom, then back at his little brother.
He smiled.
The trouble had been big. The hiding had been funny. And the laughter that followed made it all worth remembering.
That day became another legendary story on the farm—the day CUTIS caused funny big trouble… and tried to hide from it.
