Monkey Business

by Decanus_Alexus

Rating: everyone
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 1377

Monkeys don't like horses who cut their trees.

Wood doesn't grow from trees. It's made of trees, and animals live in trees, so it's only natural that animals grow to resent those who make wood from trees, even when there's no malicious intent behind it.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-22 00:00:01 UTC

Monkey Business

Magic. I hate magic. This hoofed trash thinks they're better than everyone else just because they can make things float in midair and make sparks come out of bones in their heads. They spit in the face of Mother Nature... and they're proud of it! They cut down our homes in the forests to make their little houses and their little beds and their little chairs. We primates have to huddle ourselves in cramped, shrinking forests just so they can avoid a little discomfort. Well, to that I say, “No! You won't take our lands and our way of life without a fight.” And that's what I vowed long ago to give them for every last second I have in this world. Even as I sit in their freezing dungeon, eating bitter slop and drinking filthy water, my hatred keeps me warm, it keeps me sane, and it keeps me alive.

Even as I remain in their clutches, the united force of chimpanzees, gorillas, and orangutans sit in the trees of Everfree, sharpening their spears and poisoning their darts for the day when we can take Ponyville and burn it to the ground. By this act of cleansing, the soil from which new trees will grow will be enriched. We will send a message to those who would return and try to destroy our homes once again: that we will not tolerate them, and we will show them no mercy.

That's not to say we don't already show our disapproval with deeds. We make sure that foolish children who wander into our lands are never heard from again. Those who come in searching for them are dealt with in the same way. They can't use their disgusting magic in our lands – not as long as we have the most ancient and sacred of our trees. Our Heart, which makes sure that no magic can be cast in our lands. It was under the watchful eye of that monument that I declared my lifelong vendetta, just as my father, and my father's father, and his father before him did before me.

So, who am I? If you ask just about any of those four-legged monsters, they'll tell you that they've never heard of me. Until now, we'd never been known to them. They always assumed their children had been lost to cockatrices, or timber wolves, or zebras, or even some made-up legend that they made up in their smug little heads and assumed was true. But there was one pony that had, for some reason, was immune to the blessings of the Heart. It was that witch who captured me, catching me and my comrades off guard during one of our patrols. But she'll come later.

I am Marcus. I was born under the full moon, in the dead of winter. My mother gave birth to me on the snowy ground. Surrounded by white. Surrounded by nature. Surrounded by purity. The shamans told my mother and father that I was pure of heart and destined for greatness – they were right.

I have many kills to my name. I am a warrior without parallel, and I can no longer count how many of these beasts I have slain. Child, adult, male, female, it does not matter; they all deserve death. I am a direct descendant of the greatest chieftain of all primate kind: Caesar. Although a chimpanzee, it was he who rallied all primate kind together to destroy the hoofed menace when they started their invasion. It is unfortunate that they were too strong for us back then. Unfortunately, we couldn't match up to their magic and their clothes forged from pure metal. They must have demons on their side. But even still, were it not for Caesar, we might not even be alive right now. Now we are a vast confederacy of tribes, and one which I stand to inherit after my father passes on. Like all the leaders before him, and like I will after him, he guides us in our mission to destroy that accursed city.

“Ponyville” is what they call that insult to our very existence. How pompous they are to name it after their own species! And just recently, to rub it in our faces further, they built a gigantic stone structure as its focal point. It is my prison, and it is home to that harpie who locked me in here: Princess Twilight Sparkle.

The most pompous of them all. Has more of that accursed magic running through her veins than the rest of this place combined. Claims to be royalty, yet isn't any more regal in manner than the rest of the monsters in Ponyville. Eats like a pig, lords the most obscure and useless facts over others as if knowing them makes her better, so pedantic as to drive anyone insane, and worst of all, mocks our entire way of life by keeping shelf after shelf of stacks of paper, filled with worthless symbols, and made from our homes. What is the point of making such things? Simple. There is none. They ravage our lands just for the sake of ravaging our lands. And yet, this harpie assures me, with absurd confidence, that they serve not only a purpose, but an invaluable purpose! She even gave me one of these and told me to “read” it. She told me it was about “friendship”. The nerve! The utter gall! But I did something with it, alright. I smeared it with... heh heh... “mud”... and when she returned, I shoved it in her ugly face. Now she knows just what I think of her “friendship” and her “books”. I refuse to accept that there is anything good in anything these creatures create.

She claims that she “cares” about us. She claims that she wants “peace”. She claims that she is willing to “negotiate” with us. She claims that we can come up with a “mutually beneficial agreement”. Lies! All of it! There is no “negotiation” with these animals. They'll put us to sleep with promises, then make it so we never wake.

Right now, at this very moment, Twilight Sparkle is going into Everfree, accompanied by her five no doubt equally contemptible friends. I can only hope my father knows as well as I do not to trust her. I can only hope that he cuts out her silver tongue before he's swayed by the lies that drip from it. If I am to die in here, I at least want to die knowing that after she went in, she never came back out.

Epilogue

Traitor! That smug little harpie actually came back from Everfree, telling me that my father agreed to let her four-legged animals enter our lands in exchange for her making it a “reservation” for us. What!? Doesn't he know not to trust these vile beasts? Was he hypnotized? Intoxicated? Or is he really just a traitor to our kind?

Did he not swear an oath of lifelong vendetta against the hoofed menace? There is no word for this betrayal and insult to our very existence. So, why did he do it? Has he gone soft? Did the spirit of Caesar leave his heart? Did he decide that his word and the words of his ancestors were no longer binding to the Heart?

It doesn't matter. This crime against primate kind will be erased soon enough. Twilight Sparkle foolishly agreed to let me out of here and back to Everfree. It is time I take back our lands from this traitor. There is a law. “Death shall never befall an ape”. But my father is no longer an ape. His mind has been twisted. This law no longer applies.

So that's what I'm going to do. I will sharpen my spear to the finest point I can, and assemble all true apes to take our lands back. When that time comes when I lead the charge to take back our lands, only one of us will come out of that charge alive – and in Caesar's name, I will use all that I can muster to make sure I am that one. Our last and final hope rests in my hands. I cannot fail.