This is the account of a story that was written by I myself, Based entirely on a small paragraph written by a friend. The following is the original paragraph in quotations, and after, the story.

"And Grease does have a monkey.
It hides in his pocket and slaps you whenever you make fun of his "mexicanness".
Triumphantly, I found out how to perform the sleeper hold, and when I did it to his monkey (who was hiding under my bed, waiting to attack) he never woke up.
Henceforth the non-existent monkey."


The Pocket Monkey
of Distractional rudeness

And Grease does have a monkey. Yes, a monkey indeed.  A pocket monkey, to be precise. How do I know? Why that is quite simple. I have encountered the dreadful thing several times over. The first time I was introduced to the horrible beast was the time he had made a childish rant about my red-headedness, pale skin, and freckles. What did he do, you ask? I’ll tell you. He called me a ginger. It’s not so much the fact that he did indeed call me a Ginger -Much more the fact that he presumed it to be funny in fact. And saying it over and over, and over, and over when he could think of nothing better to target me with. And might I remind you that Grease is the sort of fellow who does not come upon a rude remark of indecency to others, often. No, not at all. So as to the fact that any time I -or any other- should come up with a brilliant remark -that he indeed did set himself in deservence of, he would give himself a look around -hoping to would find a remark suitable for my disgrace. But on failing the attempt, he would suffice with his usual loud outburst of “Ginger!”

Well, this became boring to even that simpleton, Grease. He yearned for more of an embarrassment to me. So he devised a plan that he himself thought brilliant. He bought what he called; a Pocket-Monkey of Distractional Rudeness. And that was just what it was. Anytime you, I, or anyone for that matter would be so bold –and as we both know, you and I are quite bold. Quite bold, and quite often- to throw him a rhetorical statement of mental abuse, the Pocket-Monkey would hop out of his pocket and slap one across the face.

It took me several accounts to realize that the stupid animal was not throwing his hand at random. Once I had figured this out, I went to work on capturing the Pocket-Monkey -and as soon as possible.

One account was when I had devised a plan to make a rhetorical remark, and grab the monkey as he came up to attack. This however did not go as planned.
As soon as the remark was made, the Pocket-Monkey rushed out –and as if it knew my plan by heart- dodged the hand I used to capture, and slapped me thrice across the face.

I now saw that this would be more difficult than I had hoped. A new plan was in need of rescuing, or I for that matter. I thought and pondered, queried, and blumbered -say, is blumbered a word? I suppose it is from the root word; blumber. However that may even be a word of non-existence itself.
So as I thought, pondered, queried, and blumbered. And then, I thought of a plan I thought sufficient and simple. I would put a banana in my back pocket. So that when the monkey popped out, it would see the banana, and go right for it. Then I, however, would capture the monkey.  
But when the attempt was made, the Pocket-Monkey -yes, that dreadful Pocket-Monkey of Distractional Rudeness- went straight for the Banana, slapped me thrice and climbed back into the pocket -It being a Pocket-Monkey of course.

I was enraged! That ridiculous monkey! That ridiculous Pocket-Monkey! That dreadful, ridiculous, Pocket-Monkey of Distractional Rudeness was too much of a match for me!

I had decided to get aggressive. I would tackle that greasy –well, Grease-and take that monkey!

It was raining out; I waited for him to come out of the school building. As he stumbled out I prepared for my pounce, hiding in some brush that he had no other choice but to pass -Either that or a long walk home.
And as he was walking towards the brush, the Pocket monkey was of course peering out of his -well, pocket.
I waited, he stepped foot right past the brush. I pounced out, tackling the clueless Grease. We blundered and skirmished on the ground, rolling about while he struggled. He was not at all a challenge, however snatching the Pocket-Monkey, was the trouble. After sometime, the monkey leaped out of his pocket and started round-house kicking me in the face! After some time, he let loose; climbing back into the pocket of that Grease fellow I am not too fond of -But not before slapping me thrice.
Grease escaped and stepped foot on the bus.  I watched him leave as he leaned out and screamed. “Ginger!”

Now that I had –and I beg pardon for the cliché- gotten Grease’s britches in a tizzy, he decided to devise a plan of his own. So he indeed, did summon the monkey to hide under my bed and slap me to death that very night.

So that very night –for that is when I said it would be- the Monkey slipped through a crack in the window -for it was a hot summer’s day- and crept himself under my bed to wait.

Stumbling back to my house -for I had had a few too many Dewskies that night at the café with my good friend- I made way up to the sidewalk.  I found the spare key in its usual place under the mat on my back doorstep. I fumbled with the key, being very tired indeed, and opened the door. Walking in, I could feel the tension in the air. Something would go down tonight. But I, being far to tired to deal with any sort of matter, ignored the warning and slipped off to bed.
As I lay pulling the covers up over myself, dozing in and out of sleep, I thought I saw a shadow coming from the end of my bedpost. I looked closer, trying to see what made the shadow come to life. Almost instantly the monkey pounced from the edge of the bed flinging himself towards me. He slapped my face wildly screeching the entire time. I rolled off the bed -the Pocket-Monkey still clinging to my face. As he clamored, I managed to grab hold of the animal, and detach him from my face. Finally I had the dreadful, the evil -the dreadful, evil, annoying, Pocket-Monkey of Distractional Rudeness.

I shall not speak any further of the matter, but let your mind wander to the happenings of the demented creature. You could assume that I accidentally gripped it too firmly by the throat when it bit me over the hand.

Or you could assume it was rather intent of escape and I tossed it out the window -for it to run away and never be heard of again.
I do not care of which you choose, just as long as you understand that you hopefully will never have to encounter such a terrible thing -oh yes, such a terrible, dreadful, evil, thing as a Pocket-Monkey of Distractional Rudeness.