I Died and Now I’m a Monkey

After I died, my soul latched onto a mother monkey at the city zoo.

My days became a simple, blissful cycle of picking fleas and peeling bananas. Honestly, it was a hell of a lot more peaceful than my time as the Hawthorne family’s long-lost daughter.

After all, in the zoo, my biological parents couldn't spit on me with their words.

My own brother couldn't tell me to cut my wrists deeper next time.

Yeah. I was born to be a monkey.

I was perfectly content with my new life, right up until that perfect family of three strolled into the zoo with the girl who had taken my place.

"Mom, Dad, Liam, look!" she chirped. "That monkey is so ugly! Doesn't it look just like Stella did right before she died?"

The three of them froze.

I, on the other hand, let out a sharp "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah!" toward the gorilla enclosure next door.

The mighty Flingo, without missing a beat, whipped out a lump of his own special delivery and launched it. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc, landing with a wet splat right across the fake daughter’s face.

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Isabelle Hawthorne got a face full of crap.

A wave of laughter erupted from the surrounding crowd as she stood there, covered in fresh gorilla dung, trembling with rage while dry-heaving.

I cackled with glee, perching on the highest rock of Monkey Mountain and slapping my belly. I made sure to shoot Flingo a big thumbs-up.

Flingo, short for Flingo the Gorilla, had a reputation. As his name suggested, he loved flinging his poop at tourists—a little trick I had taught him.

I remember when I first became this monkey. The zoo was nearly bankrupt, visitors were scarce, and we animals were starving. We were all skin and bones, a truly pathetic sight.

This couldn't go on. So, I took matters into my own hands.

First, I dismantled the alpha monkey’s reign of terror with three swift strikes. I went straight for his family jewels, beating him until he was whimpering and teary-eyed, forcing him to abdicate his throne.

Just like that, I became the new queen of the monkeys.

Next, I dispatched Echo, our blue macaw and resident gossip, to fly across the park and spread my new revenue-generating philosophy.

The bottom line was simple: our zoo needed an act.

We needed a little bit of zen, a little bit of chaos, and maybe a little bit of butt-scratching for good measure. How could tourists resist throwing money at that?

In just two months, the zoo came roaring back to life.

We had Flingo the poop-flinging gorilla, a raccoon who looked like he was meditating, a swan who fed the fish, and a Siberian tiger who sprawled out on his back like a housecat.

And then there was me, the Monkey Queen, who loved to wear a flower crown and wiggle my butt on the highest peak of our mountain. If I was in a particularly good mood, I’d even bust out a TikTok dance.

I was the star attraction!

And what happens? This little brat, Isabelle, who has no appreciation for true artistry, has the nerve to call me ugly.

She was just begging for a taste of Flingo’s signat...