It was a sweltering summer afternoon, the kind where even the walls seemed to sweat. Monkey Lyly had been fanning herself with a leaf all morning, but nothing worked. Then, while wandering through the kitchen, she spotted the refrigerator door slightly ajar as the cameraman grabbed a drink.
Her eyes lit up. Cold air… perfect!
Without hesitation, Lyly dashed to her room, dragging her favorite little pillow—bright pink and slightly worn from countless naps. She hugged it to her chest like a prized possession and marched back to the kitchen with a determined look.
The cameraman, noticing her plan, chuckled and said, “Lyly, no. You can’t sleep in there. It’s for food, not monkeys.” But Lyly, in true monkey fashion, completely ignored him. She climbed onto the lower shelf, plopped the pillow down next to a carton of eggs, and curled up like it was the coziest bed in the world.
The cool air from the fridge fan made her sigh in relief. She wriggled into position, eyes half-closing, while the cameraman shook his head, amused but concerned. “Lyly, you’re going to catch a cold… and besides, what will we do with the milk?”
But the little monkey pretended not to hear. She was too busy fluffing her pillow and tucking her tail around herself. The cameraman tried reasoning with her, offering a cold, cushioned spot by the fan instead, but Lyly simply buried her face into the pillow like a stubborn child refusing bedtime.
Finally, after a long standoff, the cameraman gently lifted her out—pillow and all—and carried her to a shaded corner of the living room. He placed a small ice pack under the pillow, giving her the cooling comfort she wanted without the refrigerator hazards.
Lyly gave him a look that seemed to say, Fine, you win this time. But as she dozed off in her new “cool bed,” her tiny fingers still clutched the pillow tightly.
In her mind, she had won the battle—because even if she wasn’t in the fridge, she was still sleeping her way.
