Once upon a time, a monkey named Keema and a shark named Papa became good friends. Keema lived in a huge tree by the sea. The tree's branches stretched over both the land and the water. Every morning, while Keema ate the tasty fruit of the tree, Papa would swim up and call, "Throw me some fruit, my friend!" Keema happily shared his food, and this went on for many months.
One day, Papa said, "Keema, you’ve been so kind to me. I want to take you to my home so I can thank you properly."
Keema replied, "How can I come with you? I live on land, and I can’t swim."
"Don’t worry about that," said Papa. "I’ll carry you on my back, and you won’t even get wet!"
"All right," said Keema. "Let’s go!"
Keema climbed onto Papa’s back, and they swam far out into the sea. After they had gone quite a distance, Papa stopped and said, "Keema, you are my friend, so I need to tell you the truth."
Keema was surprised. "What truth?"
Papa hesitated but finally said, "Our king, the Sultan, is very sick. The only thing that can cure him is a monkey’s heart."
Keema’s eyes widened, but he quickly thought of a plan to save himself. "Oh no, Papa!" he said. "You should have told me this before we left!"
"Why?" asked Papa.
"Because I don’t have my heart with me," Keema explained. "When we monkeys go out, we leave our hearts in the trees for safekeeping."
Papa looked very confused. "You left your heart in the tree?"
"Of course," Keema said, pretending to be annoyed. "If you had told me earlier, I could have brought it with me. Now, there’s no point in going to your home. Your Sultan will be disappointed."
Papa believed Keema’s story. "Then let’s go back and get your heart," he said eagerly.
Keema pretended to hesitate. "Well, if you insist," he said with a sigh. "But this is such a waste of time."
Papa turned around and swam back to the tree. As soon as they reached the shore, Keema quickly climbed up into the branches. "Wait there, Papa," he called. "I’ll get my heart, and then we can go."
Papa waited patiently. But Keema didn’t come down. After a while, Papa called, "Are you ready, Keema? Let’s go!"
Keema poked his head out from the tree and laughed. "Go? Where? Do you think I’m as foolish as a washerman’s donkey?"
Papa was confused. "A washerman’s donkey? What do you mean?"
Keema grinned and said, "Let me tell you a story, Papa."
Once, there was a washerman who had a donkey he loved very much. But one day, the donkey ran away into the forest. There, it lived a lazy life and became very fat.
One day, a clever hare named Soongoora saw the fat donkey and thought, "This would make a great meal for my friend Simba, the lion."
Simba was recovering from an illness and was too weak to hunt. So Soongoora went to him and said, "I’ll bring you a big feast tomorrow, but you’ll have to do the killing."
Simba agreed, and Soongoora went back to the forest. He found the donkey and said, "Miss Donkey, the mighty lion wants to marry you!"
The donkey was excited. "Really? Let’s go to him right away!"
They went to Simba’s home. When they arrived, Soongoora whispered to Simba, "This is your feast," and then left. Simba tried to attack the donkey, but he was too weak, and the donkey kicked him hard before running away.
Later, Soongoora returned and asked Simba, "Did you get your feast?"
Simba growled, "No, she kicked me and escaped. But I made sure to hurt her too!"
After some time, when both Simba and the donkey had healed, Soongoora went back to the forest. He said to the donkey, "The lion still wants to marry you. Don’t worry about last time; that’s just how lions show affection."
The donkey believed him and followed him back. This time, Simba was strong enough to kill the donkey. Afterward, Simba told Soongoora, "I only want the heart and ears. You can have the rest."
Soongoora cooked the meat, but he hid the heart and ears. When Simba asked for them, Soongoora said, "There aren’t any."
"What do you mean?" Simba growled.
Soongoora replied, "Didn’t you know this was a washerman’s donkey? If it had a heart or ears, would it have come back after you attacked it the first time?"
Simba had to admit Soongoora was right.
"And now, Papa," Keema said, "you want to make me a washerman’s donkey. Do you really think I would go with you again? Goodbye, Papa. Our friendship is over!"
And with that, Keema stayed safely in his tree, while Papa swam away, disappointed and ashamed.
Once upon a time, a monkey named Keema lived in a grand tree by the sea. It was a tree so big it looked like it had eaten all the other trees for breakfast. Its branches stretched far over the land and water, making it the perfect spot for Keema to lounge, munch fruit, and enjoy the view.
One day, as Keema happily munched on his favorite fruit, his friend Papa the shark swam up, his sleek body gliding through the waves like a giant silver spoon in a bowl of soup.
“Oi, Keema!” Papa called out. “Throw me some fruit, will ya? Your tree makes the best snacks. Way better than seaweed. Seaweed is just soggy sadness.”
Keema laughed and tossed a few fruits down. “Here you go, Papa. But don’t knock seaweed—it’s a superfood! Keeps your fins shiny, doesn’t it?”
And so, every day, Papa visited, and Keema shared his fruit. They laughed, joked, and became the best of friends. This went on for months.
One morning, as Keema juggled fruit in his tree, Papa arrived with a gleam in his eye. “Keema, my pal, my fruity little friend. I’ve been thinking—it’s time for me to return the favor. Come visit my home in the deep blue sea! I’ll throw a feast. It’ll be legendary! We’ll have... uh, seaweed salad and—well, we’ll figure it out.”
Keema scratched his head. “Sounds fun, Papa, but there’s a tiny problem. I can’t swim. I’m a monkey, not a mer-monkey.”
Papa grinned. “Easy fix. I’ll carry you on my back. Trust me, you’ll love it. It’s like Uber, but wetter.”
Keema hesitated but then thought, Why not? “Alright, let’s do it. But if this ends with me getting seasick, you owe me double fruit tomorrow.”
Keema climbed onto Papa’s back, and they set off. At first, Keema enjoyed the ride, pointing at schools of fish like a tourist on a bus. “Look, Papa! Fish! So shiny. Do they come with a disco ball?”
Papa chuckled. “No disco ball, but they’re good dancers.”
They swam far out into the sea when suddenly, Papa stopped. He looked serious—well, as serious as a shark can look.
“Keema,” Papa began, “you’re my best friend, so I need to tell you something.”
Keema tilted his head. “You’re not secretly a vegetarian, are you? Because that would explain the seaweed obsession.”
“No, no,” Papa said, awkwardly. “It’s... my king, the Sultan of the Sea, is very sick. And, uh... the royal doctor says the only cure is... a monkey’s heart.”
Keema froze. “A monkey’s what now?”
“A heart,” Papa repeated, wincing. “But hey, you’re not mad, right? Friends help friends!”
Keema stared at him, then gasped dramatically. “Papa, why didn’t you tell me this before?!”
Papa blinked. “Why? Does it matter?”
“Of course, it matters!” Keema said, waving his arms. “You see, we monkeys... we don’t carry our hearts around like wallets. That’s silly! I left mine back in the tree. For safekeeping. Everyone knows that!”
Papa gaped. “You left your heart in the tree?”
“Absolutely! You wouldn’t walk around carrying your house keys in your mouth, would you? Oh wait... bad example.”
Papa, being a shark and not particularly gifted at spotting sarcasm, nodded. “Alright then, let’s go back and get it! The Sultan will be thrilled!”
Keema pretended to sigh. “Fine, fine. But next time, give me a heads-up when you need vital organs, okay?”
Papa turned around and swam back as fast as he could. As soon as they reached the shore, Keema scrambled up his tree like a cat avoiding bath time. “Wait there, Papa!” he called. “I’ll grab my heart and be right down.”
Papa waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, he called up, “Keema, are you ready? The Sultan’s not getting any healthier!”
Keema poked his head out of the branches, grinning. “Ready? Oh, Papa, sweet Papa. Do you really think I’m coming back down?”
Papa frowned. “What do you mean? I thought we were friends!”
“Friends, yes,” Keema said. “But do you think I’m as foolish as a washerman’s donkey?”
Papa tilted his head. “A washerman’s donkey? Is this another one of your weird monkey riddles?”
“Not a riddle, Papa. A story! Let me explain…”
And Keema launched into a tale about a donkey who trusted a lion not once but twice—and paid the price for it. As Keema told the story, Papa grew more and more embarrassed, realizing he’d been outsmarted.
“So you see, Papa,” Keema concluded, “you tried to make me the donkey of this story. But unlike the donkey, I have brains—and my heart, safely up here in the tree. So... goodbye, Papa! And good luck explaining this to your Sultan.”
Papa sighed. “Fine, Keema. You win. But if you ever change your mind about the seaweed salad, let me know.”
And with that, Papa swam away, a little sad but secretly impressed by Keema’s cleverness. Meanwhile, Keema lounged in his tree, munching fruit and laughing at the whole adventure.
And so, the monkey stayed safe in his tree, the shark learned a lesson about trust, and the Sultan... well, he probably found another cure. Or at least started liking seaweed.
Keema the monkey, high in his tree,
Shared his fruit with glee by the sea.
Papa the shark would swim up each morn,
Eating the fruit that Keema had torn.
“Dear friend Keema,” Papa one day spoke,
“My home I’d show you, this is no joke.”
Keema wondered, “But how can this be?
For your sea is no place for a tree-dweller like me!”
“Worry not,” Papa said with a smile,
“I’ll carry you through the water mile by mile.”
So, Keema agreed and climbed on his back,
Together they set off on the watery track.
But halfway there, Papa slowed to confess,
“Our king is sick, and you might guess,
A monkey heart is the only cure,
For our poor Sultan to be well for sure.”
Keema’s mind raced, he needed a plan,
So, he tricked Papa as only a smart monkey can:
“Oh no, dear Papa, what a surprise!
My heart’s in the tree—it’s where it lies!”
Papa believed with a nod of his head,
And turned back around, no more was said.
Back to the tree, where Keema sprang free,
“Wait here!” he said, “I’ll fetch it from the tree.”
Papa waited, but Keema, wise and sly,
Stayed up high and bid goodbye.
He told Papa a story of a donkey so fat,
Who twice was fooled by a cunning, clever hat.
A hare had tricked the donkey, you see,
Once and twice to a lion’s spree.
The second time, the lion was ready,
To feast on the donkey, steady and steady.
“So, Papa,” Keema said with a grin,
“Fool me once, but not again.
I’ll keep my heart and my clever head,
While you swim back home, heavy as lead.”
With that, Papa knew he was beat,
Ashamed, he left, feeling the deceit.
Keema was safe, smart as could be,
In his tall tree home, happy and free.
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