The Irish Monkey
The pitter patter of rain had finally ceased and as I looked up at the cloudy sky, a rainbow had started to form. The clouds drifted slowly away, to reveal the bright sunshine underneath. When the rainbow was full I had started to think. What was at that end of the rainbow? Of course it would be a pot of gold! So I ran and ran, following the path of the bright colors, passing through the grassy fields, and I had finally reached the end of the rainbow, only to find not the pot of gold I was hoping for, but instead of a monkey! There was something odd about this money though. His fur was green! I had always wanted a monkey, so I called him my Irish monkey. I brought it home, and then suddenly he started to shriek and shriek until I thought he probably was hungry. So, I went to the kitchen, and picked our best banana, but when I gave it to him, he threw it at me! So he didn’t like either the banana or me. So, I tried to give him a strawberry, but that didn’t work. I tried to give him an apple, but that hurt me even more. I was getting very agitated with my Irish monkey. Then he ran out the front door! I scratched my head wondering where he could have gone. The next time I saw him, he was with another person eating a potato. A monkey eating a potato? What a queer thing, but my monkey was even queerer. He was my Irish monkey.
