Daddy Monkey and the Quest for Towels - Chapter 2

The deer had already swum most of the way down the garden, and ripples had spread out from round her to the hedge and the bamboo. They reflected the light of the sky, so it looked like rainbows of brown and blue.

All the birds in the hedge were watching the strange splashy chase, and soon there were lots of tweets, chirps and croaks. “Go on, deer! Hurry up, Glove Monster! Don’t fall in, Daddy Monkey!”

Daddy Monkey waved and bowed, but the deer looked and seemed even more worried. The Glove Monster was trying to chase, but the fur on his legs was all wet, and he squelched along feeling glum, and wishing he’d stayed on the sofa.

But it was too late to get back now. The deer had climbed onto the compost heap at the end of the garden and was trying to jump over the fence.

“Stop!” shouted Daddy Monkey. “Have you got a towel?”

“Oh, a towel would be lovely!” shouted the Glove Monster. “My feet are all soggy!”

“A towel?” said the deer. She stopped and looked at the chasing animals very carefully. “What’s a towel?”

Daddy Monkey clapped his his hand over his face so hard he nearly fell right off the Glove Monster’s head – he had to wrap his tail round his friend’s nose.

“Ow!” said the Glove Monster. “A dow,” he went on, sounding funny because his nose was all wound up, “id dumbthig you use do ged dry.”

“Stop being silly,” said Daddy Monkey, climbing back onto the Glove Monster’s head. “He means, a towel is something you use to get dry. I’ve got a crocodile one.”

The deer looked worried.

“It’s not really a crocodile,” said Daddy Monkey. “In our house there are also towels that are rectangles. But they’re booooooring!”

“I don’t have one of those,” said the deer. “Now stop chasing!”

“But if you go swimming you need a towel,” said Daddy Monkey.

“Or sloshing,” said the Glove Monster.

“How do you get dry?” Daddy Monkey asked the deer.

“I just wait until my fur stops being wet,” she said.

Daddy Monkey clapped his hand over his face again, and this time he really did fall off. Luckily, the Glove Monster had climbed up onto the compost heap, and instead of getting even more wet, he just got spiked by the thorns underneath.

Glove Monster wasn’t listening to Daddy Monkey’s “Ow! Ow! Ow!” He just looked gloomily down at his mucky legs and tail. “We need a towel,” he said. “Otherwise we can’t go back in the house. Daddy will tell us off about the mess, then Mummy will, then Freya will – and we won’t get any more gloves to eat!”

“And this poor deer doesn’t have a towel at all!” said Daddy Monkey, shaking bits of twig out of his tail. He was also flood-mucky all over his tum and legs. “Time for a towel adventure!”

“I don’t need a towel,” said the deer. She was just about to leap over the fence into the water in next doors garden. “I’m happy with normal drying.”

“Hmm,” said Daddy Monkey, who was just beginning to dry out after being in the water earlier. “Doesn’t normal drying make your fur all crispy?” He showed her the fur on his legs, where it was stuck together. “Towels are much better. Especially crocodile ones.”

“Maybe,” said the deer, flicking her long ears. “But where could I get one from.”

“Shops!” shouted Daddy Monkey.

“Glove shops?” asked the Glove Monster, hopefully.

Daddy Monkey sighed.

So off they went towards the shops. First they had to get over and through various fences to get into the allotments behind the houses. Normally Daddy Monkey would have to be careful here because he’d accidentally dug up the allotment holders’ carrots so many times they would chase him with pitchforks. And normally he’d have been heading for his banana tree shed. But he’d moved the banana trees into Mummy and Daddy’s bedroom a few days ago, and the allotment holders were all at home, wishing they could chase the water away from their carrots.

This time the allotments were almost completely quiet, except for the splashing of monster feet in the water, and the sploshing of deer hooves swimming nearby. Daddy Monkey thought it was so relaxing he fell asleep on the Glove Monster’s and only stopped himself falling off by wrapping his tail around his friend’s nose again. The Glove Monster was going to complain, but his voice sounded silly, so he didn’t.

Eventually they got to the fence on the far side of the allotments. The deer and the Glove Monster were even wetter than ever, and Daddy Monkey’s fur was even crispier. On the other side of the fence was Daddy Donkey’s field. Most of it was under water, but Daddy Donkey was still there. A patch of green stuck out above the water, and on it were enough thistles to keep two donkeys fed for two weeks.

When he saw his visitors, Daddy Donkey galloped right over. “Hello,” he said to Daddy Monkey. But he didn’t know the Glove Monster or the deer, so he sniffed them very carefully. “You smell all soggy.”

“Hmph!” said the Glove Monster and the deer. “We’re going to get towels,” said Daddy Monkey.

“Oh,” said Daddy Donkey. “I don’t use towels I just wait until my fur gets dry.”

“See?” said the deer.

“We’ll get you a towel too,” said Daddy Monkey.

“I like being crispy,” said Daddy Donkey.

This time when Daddy Monkey clapped his hand over his face, the Glove Monster caught him in his big glovy hand.

“I’m going to give this towel thing a try,” said the deer. “But I think this donkey is more right than this monkey.”