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By Joseph N. Wdowski

©2013

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The Strange Monkey of Dot Island By

Joseph N. Wdowski

If Dot Island was on a map, it would look like a dot. It appeared so much

like a small dot that when the map makers analyzed satellite photos of

the Earth, they mistook Dot Island for a mere speck of dirt on the

image, leading to Dot Island never being recorded on any map.

If someone were to approach Dot Island from the sea, one would see

an extremely large mountain rising from the ocean floor straight into

the clouds. The single mountain of Dot Island was so tall that even in

summer the peak was always covered in white snow.

Surrounding the upper section of the mountain, below the snow, were

mighty pine trees. Below the pine trees was a ring of leaf bearing trees

that would change into many colors every fall.

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Where the ocean met the shore, all around the mountain, was tropical;

with palm trees, orange trees, lemon trees, coconut trees, and sugar

cane. Fresh clean water streamed down the north and south sides of

the mountain into the ocean. The ocean around Dot Island was teaming

with schools of fish, crabs, oysters, and more.

Not a single person had ever set foot on Dot Island. Ringing the island

was a large coral reef preventing any ships from getting near its golden

sand beaches. That is, if any ship would sail close enough to even see

the island. It was hundreds of miles from any sea lanes.

On this island was a very large community of monkeys that had lived

there even before the first words were ever written on paper. None of

the monkeys knew how they, or any of the animals, had arrived on the

island. No other islands or lands could be seen on the horizon in any

direction. They never stared up at the stars or wondered what they

were. They never imagined that anything or anyone else could be living

beyond their horizon. For them Dot Island was the whole world.

Life on Dot Island was good. The monkeys lived a care free life. They

had no natural enemies and the temperature was always perfect. If it

did rain they would merely take cover under the large palm trees near

the beach or take shelter in the trees on the mountain side. Clouds

rarely blocked the sun or blue sky. Clouds on the most part would only

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gather around the mountain’s peak, gently snowing cold crystal flakes

upon its pointy top.

As far back as the oldest monkeys could remember they always did

everything as a group. In the middle level of the mountain there were

blue berries and raspberries to be found. Food seemed always ripe for

the picking. They all

woke each day when the

sun rose from the east.

Each day they would

gather berries to eat for

breakfast. Each day they

would migrate down to

the beach to run around

and play. Each day they

would stop playing when

the sun was at its

highest point in the sky;

to pick oranges from the trees. Each day, after having lunch, they would

play until the sun was just about to begin dipping behind the western

horizon. Each day they would gather a few more oranges and begin

their migration back up the mountain. Each day after eating the

oranges, they would groom each other before retiring into the trees to

sleep for the night.

The next morning they would do everything exactly the same again.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year,

generation after generation, nothing in their lives ever changed. They

functioned like a clock on island without clocks.

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Even though they had sugarcane on the island they would never eat it.

They felt the sugarcane was too sweet. They also would never eat the

lemons, feeling the lemons were too sour. None of them could figure

out how to open the hard coconut shells, so they never tried the

coconuts. They were satisfied only eating oranges, blue berries, and

raspberries, for they were all good foods, none of them desired

anything different or anything more.

One year a monkey was born that would change everything on the

island. From the very beginning his parents knew their son was

different from the other baby monkeys. He rarely cried for his mother,

and was very content to play by himself. The other baby monkeys were

always clinging to their mothers. They would ride on their mothers'

backs, or hang from under their mothers' bellies.

This young monkey seemed very happy to walk along side his mother.

He would enjoy being able to stop where and when he wanted to, to

explore his world. For example one day he spent hours just watching

worker ants moving food into their anthill. He found it very interesting

to watch them as they lined up, one after another; carrying leaves twice

their size into their anthill.

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The other monkeys his age found no interest in watching ants. They

would all rather hang onto their mothers, and be feed berries. The

young monkey would pick his own berries. He would not eat when all

the other monkeys ate. He would eat when he was hungry, which was

not always the same time as the others. The group felt this was very

strange. They were so use to always doing everything the same, at the

same time; they could not understand the little strange monkey. He

thought they were not that different than the ants he enjoyed

watching. As interesting as he found the ants, he didn't want to be like

an ant; mindless and only following the one in front of him.

One day he spent a whole afternoon watching dung beetles roll balls of

dung into their tunnels for their young to feed and grow on. He found it

amazing how the dung beetles could roll something fifty times heavier

than themselves.

Another time he watched termites work on their termite mound. He

found it very interesting how they would use the soil to build up their

mound protecting their home from other insects.

As the years past, and he grew, he

became even more independent. One day

on the beach, instead of running around

and playing with all the other monkeys,

he spent the time watching seagulls. He

watched them as they picked up shell fish

in their beaks, and fly up high, dropping

them on the rocks. The shells would break

on the rocks and seagulls would swoop down eating the juicy meat. He

thought it was so clever how they used the rocks to open the hard

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shells. The older monkeys were starting to get concerned with his odd

behavior. They could not understand why he would not run and play

like all the other monkeys.

As he got older still, he started spending most of his days on the beach

building sandcastles. At first they were very simple, much like the ant

hill. But each day, after the high tide would wash away his previous

day’s castle, he would start anew. He started to think of the termite

mound and his castles were becoming more and more elaborate. He

would build walls, dig moats around the walls. Later he started to add

towers to his sandcastles. He would then start using shells and pieces of

wood to strengthen the walls. He added draw bridges and little flags

made from small leaves. Each day his castles got bigger, stronger, and

more interesting. At least he thought so. The other monkeys just found

it an extremely bizarre way for him to spend his time, when he could

instead be running around and playing. They were Dot Island monkeys.

Dot Island Monkeys did not make sandcastles. Dot Island monkeys ran

around chasing each other. The older monkeys began getting upset that

his behavior was too different. He should behave like a Dot Island

Monkey many of them thought.

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He finally built one castle so strong and well made that the next

morning, when he returned to the beach, part of the sandcastle was

still standing. He was very happy with what he had accomplished. As he

jumped up and down in celebration, the other monkeys just stared at

him, dumbfound with his excitement over a mere pile of sand.

It was true that the strange monkey was nothing like the other

monkeys. He had a way of seeing the world none of them seemed to

understand. He wished he could make friends with the other monkeys,

but he had no interest in just running around in circles chasing another

monkey's tail. He was not like them. He didn't care what they thought

about him. He was not bothering or hurting anyone by building his

sandcastles. He found it interesting to experiment in new and different

ways of building.

One summer day the sun was very bright and extremely hot. It was on

that day the strange monkey felt he got his first really brilliant idea. He

climbed up one of the coconut trees and picked a coconut. From the

tree top he smashed the coconut down on a large rock below the tree.

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Much like he had watched the seagulls smash the shellfish on the rocks.

The top of the coconut broke off perfectly. He quickly climbed down

the tree and drank the coconut milk. He found it very refreshing and

delicious. As he drank the coconut milk, dripping down his chin, the

other monkeys all stopped running around chasing each other and just

stared at him puzzled. None of them had ever thought of how to open a

coconut and drink the milk.

Oddly instead of the other monkeys being impressed with how he used

his ingenuity in opening the coconut to get at the milk, they thought

him even stranger. On the beach they would only eat the oranges, as all

Dot Island monkeys have done for generations. Why even bother to

drink coconut milk when you have sweet oranges for the easy picking

they all thought.

After drinking the milk, the strange monkey got an even better idea. He

took the empty coconut shell and began climbing up the mountain. A

couple of hours later he reached close to the peak and filled the

coconut shell up with snow. He travelled back down the mountain with

the coconut full of snow. Once on the beach the Monkeys again all

stopped eating their oranges and wondered why the strange monkey

had a coconut shell full of snow. What he did next they thought was

even stranger. Instead of going to an orange tree to eat he went to one

of the lemon trees. He picked a lemon and began to squeeze the lemon

juice onto the snow.

All the monkeys began to laugh noticing how the snow now looked like

yellow snow. Why would he want to squeeze sour lemon juice onto the

snow? The strange monkey was not finished with his coconut full of

snow and lemon juice. He walked over to a batch sugarcanes and broke

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off a piece of sugarcane. He used the sugarcane to stir the snow with

lemon juice, and like a big sweet spoon, he then used the piece of

sugarcane to scoop up some of the lemon ice into his mouth. A big

smile crossed his face as he enjoyed the snow, lemon, and sugar cane.

The other monkeys stared at him flabbergasted. Sugarcane is too sweet

and lemons are too sour they thought. Clearly though the strange

monkey was enjoying it as he ate scoop after scoop. Some of the

younger monkeys cautiously approached him. One was brave enough

to want to try the lemon ice. The strange monkey gave him a scoop

from the sugarcane. The little monkey's eyes light up with delight as he

tasted it. It was truly delicious and so different than just eating oranges

and berries every day. It was cool and refreshing on such a hot day. He

shared his lemon ice with two more brave little monkeys. They too

found it extremely delicious and cooling. The little monkeys each

climbed up a coconut tree and each threw down a coconut on the rocks

below. They too climbed down quickly to try the coconut milk. It too

was delicious and different. Taking their empty shells they all climbed

up the mountain for ice cold snow and quickly brought it down the

mountain, squeezing lemon juice over the snow, and using sugarcane

to stir and eat the lemon ice. They all smiled and laughed and shared

their lemon ices with the strange monkey.

The next morning the strange monkey was not alone when he built his

sandcastle. Several of the younger monkeys decided to join him. They

all worked on their own sandcastles. Afterwards the small group took

their empty coconut shells up the mountain for more snow to make

more lemon ices.

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One day the one of the smallest monkeys began to build his sandcastle

off the beach. He used a coconut shell to scoop up sand and carry the

sand just off the beach beyond the high tide mark. It was there he built

his new sandcastle. The next morning it was only the smallest monkey’s

sandcastle off the beach that had completely survived the previous

night’s high tide. The strange monkey and other all slapped the littlest

monkey on the back congratulating him for such a great idea. That day

they all used coconut shells to take piles of sand from the beach to

build their sandcastles just beyond the beach.

The following day all their sandcastles were still standing. So for the

next few days they enlarged all their sandcastles and began joining

them together making the largest sandcastle ever. Several more yonger

monkeys and even a couple of monkeys the strange monkey’s age

joined their small group. Each day their sandcastle got bigger and

bigger and more elaborate. They could even rest in the giant sand

castle eating lemon ices.

They were all very proud of what they had accomplished individually

and as a group. None of the older monkeys seemed to understand at

all why this small group of monkeys would copy the strange monkey in

building sandcastles and eating lemon ices. They refused to even taste

the lemon ices no matter how hot the days got and no matter how

many times the strange monkey or any of the younger monkeys offered

them to try a spoonful. Dot Island monkeys do not ice lemons or

sugarcane, and they do not build sandcastles.

The older monkeys began to get very angry with the strange monkey. It

was bad enough that he did not respect their traditions, but now he

was influencing and corrupting some of the younger monkeys they felt

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was a threat to the traditions and culture. They were not sure what to

do about the strange monkey.

One night though Dot Island had a rain storm. It rained hard and the

wind was strong, but the monkeys were able to easily weather the rain

and winds in the trees they slept in every night. That next morning

though they were all dripping wet. Some of the monkeys were sneezing

from catching colds.

When they went down to the beach that morning the large sandcastle

the strange monkey and his small group had built was ruined. The rain

and wind the night before had blown most of the sandcastle away. It

was not built strong enough to weather the storm. The older monkeys

smiled, thinking that perhaps the rain storm had sent a message to the

strange monkey and his small group to stop their foolishness.

Instead the strange monkey was determined to build a castle that could

withstand any storm. He realized though it could not be made of sand.

They would have to use a different materiel to build a castle that would

withstand the strongest winds and rains. He thought hard what they

could use to build a strong castle.

He remembered when he was younger how he watched the dung

beetles roll much larger and heavier balls of dung. He got the idea that

he too could roll something heavy and larger. He went to the base of

the mountain to find piles of round rocks that had fallen off the

mountain over the centuries. He thought he could push and roll these

easily to a small hill just below the mountain. He began rolling his first

large rock to the small hill below. The other young monkeys could not

understand what he was doing, but they began to trust the strange

monkey and helped him roll other rocks to the top of the small hill

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below. Days turned into weeks as they worked together rolling more

and more rocks to the top of the small hill. Their they began to stack

the on rocks one on top of the other and used smaller rocks and mud to

fill in the spaces between the big rocks. Within a month four strong

stone walls formed on top the hill, with a single door way and single

open window. It looked more like a hut than a castle, but they still felt it

was their castle.

The strange monkey then got the idea to take heavy fallen trees to

make a ramp to roll other fallen trees up on top and across the walls.

Once on top the walls they strapped down and tied the logs tightly

together to the stone walls. Within just a few days they had built a roof

for their stone castle. The strange monkey and the small group of

younger monkeys began sleeping inside their stone castle each night.

Why would any Dot Island Monkey want to sleep in a stone hut thought

the other monkeys whom continued to sleep in the trees?

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One of the young monkeys came up with the idea to build a bed from

tree branches and softened with dried leaves and feathers she found

from around the island. The bed she made was so comfortable that all

the young monkeys and the strange monkey copied her and made their

own beds too.

For many nights they slept extremely comfortable in the stone castle in

their beds of leaves and feathers. The strange monkey at times would

take his bed and put it on the roof of their stone castle. He loved to

look at the stars at night and connect the stars with imaginary lines

making drawings; drawing of seagulls, palm trees, ants, crabs, and

more. He even noticed as the days passed his drawings in the stars

moved to different positions in the night’s sky, turning like a big inside

out ball in the sky.

Then it happened the next morning, when the group of stars shaped

like a fish were nearly gone, only its tail visible low in the night’s sky.

That morning the south-eastern skies over the horizon were extremely

dark with storm clouds. The surf and the winds rose greatly battering

against the shores of Dot Island. The older monkeys had heard stories

of great storms of wind, rain, and high surfs engulfing Dot Island. The

older monkeys lead the monkeys of Dot Island higher up the mountain,

into the pine trees. The strange monkey felt they would all be safer in

their stone castle upon the hill. He encouraged not only his small group

of young monkeys, but for all the monkeys of Dot Island to take shelter

there. Most did not follow the strange monkey. They instead followed

the older monkeys up the mountain fighting the rain and wind that was

getting stronger and stronger as the dark storm clouds got closer and

closer.

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Many though did decide to take shelter in the stone castle. Many knew

it was going against tradition to not follow the older wiser monkeys,

but they began to feel that even though the strange monkey was

strange, it was not a bad thing, but actually good.

It was the worst storm to hit Dot Island in any of the monkey’s had

experienced or even heard stories of. The winds were so fierce that

trees did not just bend in them, but were up rooted and came crashing

down. The sea rose higher than it had ever done before. All the land

below the small hill was under water. The rains poured down so heavily

that no leaves on the trees could protect those that chose to follow the

elder monkeys and took refuge in the trees. Many branches snapped

and broke hurling unfortunate monkeys down against the rocky slopes

of the mountain.

Within the shelter the strange monkey and the group of monkeys

weathered the storm. The stone walls and tree trunk roof held back the

winds and most of the rains. Still afraid the monkeys held on to each

other as the winds howled around the stone castle. The winds barely

drowned out the screams of those that did not choose to join them.

Into the night they fell asleep huddled together on the dry floor of the

stone castle as the storm and ocean, continued to bash against the Dot

Island.

By the next morning the storm had gone as quickly as it had come. The

ocean had receded back to where it belonged and the skies were was

again blue with small white clouds. They could hear the seagulls

squawking once again as they feasted on fish and crabs that had

washed up onto their shores.

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For those monkeys that had not been washed out to sea many were

badly injured. The Strange monkeys lead those that had taken shelter in

the stone castle out to help all those they could. Many trees still stood,

but many more had fallen. Their island had taken a great beating, but it

had survived, and thanks to the strange monkey many of his fellow Dot

Island monkey had also.

The next day, the remaining monkeys began rolling rocks on top of

other hills. Even the few older monkeys that did survive the storm

decided that perhaps it was ok to change from tradition once and a

while. They too held roll stones. Walls were soon up all over the island,

and fallen trees were rolled up ramps to cover those stone walls. If

another storm were to come to Dot Island, all the monkeys would be

safe. The monkeys of Dot Island would never be the same, all because

of one strange monkey not afraid to be different.