False Pretences

False Pretences: To make someone do something or want something by giving them reasons or hopes that are not true.

"You got me here under false pretences!" means, "You lied to get me here!"

I feel like I have got you to read this blog under false pretences by previously using the title Monkeys, Beans and Giant Heads as if I had something unbelievably exciting about monkeys, beans and giant heads to tell you about.

So, I have two options. I could tell you what actually happened with the monkeys, beans and giant heads or I could make something up. All in favour of Miss Swales making something up say, "Aye!" 

Okay, let's take a quick count... everyone in the room (that's me) says, "Aye!" Here we go then. I will start with the monkey episode. Some of it will be true. Some of it will not be true. You decide.

The Monkey Episode

It began, as all horror stories do, on a quiet Summer morning. I had spent the morning reading and talking with my friend on the grass by the lake. We had chosen a beautiful place to sit: the skyscrapers towered magnificently behind us and the still blue lake stretched out before us. Beside us two boys, one with a thin yellow bicycle, strummed on guitars. Everything was peaceful and calm. The perfect day, so it seemed, to visit the monkeys at the zoo.

"So," said my friend, "It seems to be the perfect day to visit the monkeys at the zoo."

"Monkeys?" said I.

"'Yes" said he.

"Okay" said I.

And off we went.

We made an initial stop by the lions. They strolled powerfully around their small, rather bland, enclosure. They seemed sadly unaware that there was more to life than these few small square metres. It made me a little sad, so we moved on to the monkey house.

The monkey house is a large brick building that, when you enter, immediately transports you to a different place. It is warm and dark with strange noises quietly echoing around the glass fronts of the monkey's homes. Small children chatter excitedly in different languages, pulling on the hands of their grown ups. Their excitement is infectious. You become, very quickly, obsessed by the strange creatures behind the glass. Monkeys are all sizes and shapes, some with long arms, some with long tails, some with one arm, some with mohawks... and they dance merrily around their cages. They swing from branch to branch easily, their eyes alert and mischievous. 

I stood there, in front of one particular cage, growing all the more jealous. What I wouldn't give to have a life that consisted simply of climbing trees. It was the monkey with the mohawk that impressed me most. His hair, stuck up straight on the top of his head, gave him a distinct air of authority. Yet, as I watched him, I realised that it was not just his hairstyle that did this. He seemed somehow to gain respect from his fellow monkeys. He appeared to be in charge. He appeared...I soon realised...to be up to something. 

Without the humans noticing (except, of course, myself) the monkeys seemed to be forming some type of army. I use that word deliberately for, as the passed each other, they were passing small objects like stones and sharp sticks that were clearly weapons. What is more, as they cast furtive glances around them, they were, one by one, slipping out of view behind a tree in the corner. Whilst one monkey stayed at the front, entertaining the crowds with somersaults and jumps, the others were disappearing. I admit that even though I knew something was up, I did not dare speak a word. I stood transfixed. What was going on...?! 

We were soon to find out.

The lights went off first, throwing everyone into a whirlwind of confusion. Babies began to cry and hands reached out to grab onto strangers. Voices of all accents and languages shouted out. I stood still. I knew what was coming. I knew there was nothing we could do.

Then there was an almighty crash as, simultaneously, the glass fronts of each cage exploded. Glass flew through the air, hitting my skin like a thousand daggers. People screamed and ran, creating even more panic and confusion as they stepped over each other in eagerness to escape. I continued to remain still. I knew this was only the beginning.

Then we heard it. The almost robotic voice of the Mohawk Monkey. His speech, obviously rarely used, was slow but clear.

"I advise you to stop. Stop and listen. If you remain calm then our battle with you will be quick and painless. If you continue to fight, we will not be responsible for our actions."

The crowd instantly went quiet. In the dim light I could see their horror stuck faces as they slowly realised that we were surrounded at all sides (and even above our heads) by menacing monkeys. Each monkey had a face of thunder and a handful of weapons. A fearful silence descended. This was the end, and we knew it.

A small child screamed.

The monkeys began their attack...

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Now, you may be wondering how I escaped such a terrifying experience. It was not without great difficulty. Currently I am typing this with my nose as both legs and arms are in casts. In fighting with the Mohawk Monkey (who is now, I'm pleased to say, back behind bars) I unfortunately suffered some injuries, but it was worth it. I managed to bring this monkey down and realised he was not a monkey after all. A small door on his back revealed a circuit board. Mohawk Monkey was in fact a robot, controlled by a disgruntled assistant zoo keeper. This zoo keeper, unhappy taking orders from his boss, had come up with the genius idea of taking over the world through monkey domination. Once I reconfigured the electronics of the Mohawk Monkey's circuit board I was able to control him through my own thoughts and thus bring all the other monkeys back under control. It was a tough job, but my years of teaching small children came in very handy...