On the most particular day of the prior bihex, a frittering monkey detective distanced himself from a crowd of wild animals and miscelaneous raving beasts and ghosts and goblins. From a distance, he could better perform his duty. But also, he was safe, and he no longer risked being trampled or trapped in the crowd during a wildfire.

For a while he did his duty, monkeying to perpetuate his detecting. All was well and good until a terrifying lioness approached him.

This frittering monkey had been leaning against a great large ledge on the innerside of a mountain. When the lioness prowelled in, the monkey thought of the ice age. He thought of whales. And he thought of the thick ice blockading them underwater for years and years longer than even the most expansive of whale lungs could ever hold their breath.

Suddenly the lioness had her teeth caressing the monkey's neck. The monkey could not speek. He could not move. But the lioness spoke in exotic tounge and the monkey told jokes. And the lioness danced and the monkey scratched and clowned. She roared and he ooh ooh ahh ahh'ed. They made swirling good music and, while the lunatics out of focus acted like lunatics do, this lioness and her monkey shared a raving conversation in the first-person, regarding events neither had taken part in or ever known of, using a language neither had ever spoken or heard in their lives.

When it was time to go, the two exchanged hats and smiled. That was that. Sweaty, smiling, and satisfied, onward spun the world until the arbitrary next time when again the lioness would venture from her kingdom and when again the Eternal Surveyor of All Things That Are would back himself against the rocks.

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