Mike Benedetti's Fairy Tale, July 1999:

The Monkeys

Once upon a time, in an ancient kingdom, there was a bad situation. Each year, the king demanded that each village produce a young boy who would act like a monkey for an entire day. Different villages had different procedures for choosing the boy, but always it was a stressful and festive event.

In one little village without a name there were only fifteen people, most of them old women near death. Only two of them could be passed off as "boys": the twelve-year-old Melchior and the one-year-old William. Neither boy had any living relatives, so the old women of the village got together to decide their fates.

"This Melchior, he is a hoodlum," said Agatha. "William may yet grow up to be a good man, but Mel's a lost cause. He is deserving of the fate of a monkey."

Agnes shook her fist at Agatha and growled, "If we were not bedridden, you'd get the licking of your life. At least we know Melchior has the strength to survive to manhood. For all we know, William will die of the croup before he's two."

"This room stinks of piss, but your arguments smell worse," laughed Adriatica. "How can we humble souls presume to decide the fates of the young? The thing about fate is, it takes care of itself."

"What do you suggest, then?" asked Alberta.

Adriatica sat up halfway and addressed the throng. "Ours is not a fertile village, agriculturally or parturitively. If one of these lads is a monkey this year, the other will surely be struck down by the burden twelve months thereafter."

"A wise pronouncement," said Agnes.

"Therefore," said Adriatica, "if our village is to survive, we must stop this zoological perversion once and for all."

Silence. Adriatica spoke treason. The old women leaned closer to hear it.

"We should train one of the boys in the dark martial arts, then send him to the king as our yearly monkey. When he has the opportunity, he can slay the foul tyrant. Even if he is killed thereafter, our surviving child will never have to play the monkey."

Abattreia's voice rose with hysteria. "Dark martial arts, you say. Do you mean--ninjistsu?"

"As you say," murmured Adriatica. "After all--are you yourself not a ninja?"

"Murder!" shrieked Abbatreia. "How dare you accuse me of such knowledge?"

The others stared at Abbatreia.

Finally, Agnes broke the tension. "You're not fooling anyone, Abbatreia. We all know you are ninja."

Abbatreia stared at the floor in shame as the others fleshed out the plan.

At the time of the summer solstice, the roads to the capitol ran over with cages on wagons, each cage containing a boy acting like a monkey. The air was filled with curses and reprimands as the villagers transporting their children exhorted them to be more monkeylike, to quit sulking and eat more fruit.

Finally, as the sun reached its peak, the dozens of monkey children assembled before the king. "Excellent!" he beamed. "Do not be scared, my young subjects. Tomorrow will come soon enough, but for today--you are monkeys!"

With that, the young lads jumped and scampered about the castle, wrestling and tearing stuff up and making cool screaming noises. The king gloried in their primal natures.

One tiny lad, perhaps only 14 months old, smeared with shit (it was William, we'll find out soon enough) approached the king and bowed. "Please, monkey," the king said, "such obeisances are not required of your ilk. Run and jump! Attack me, if you must, but please, no respect!"

With that, William grabbed the king's gown and tore the jeweled trim away. "Excellent, young one!" said the king. From his crouching position, William soared ten feet in the air and landed on the kings back, garotting him with the jeweled strip. The king's men were shocked into immobility. They watched, silent with horror, as the once-great monarch sunk to his knees, a sapphire braid around his neck, a dirty toddler squeezing the fire from him.

When the king finally collapsed, William turned to the king's men. "If it is death you will deal me, do so quickly, and give me also the chance to slay some of your own number."

The men looked on the child with grave fear. "I'm not messing with any ninja baby," the head guard replied, and the others nodded their agreement.

"You are cowards," opined the child, "but you have wisdom. One day, you may be of consequence. Good luck to you in all you do." And, with the catlike speed that has characterized the ninja throughout recorded history, he was gone.