“My friend the monkey?” the monkey repeated in a surprised tone, “You must mean ‘My friend the mango!’ “and SPLAT! A piece of overripe fruit landed above the crocodile’s right eye. Deep orange pulp slid down the side of his face while branches shook with the monkey’s uncontrolled mirth.

The monkey was always playing silly pranks like this.

“Forget mangos,” the crocodile growled irritably. “Tonight something better than mangoes will be eaten at my home. My wife has asked me to come get you for dinner.”

He was quite sly, that crocodile.

“Better than mangos?” The idea so astonished the monkey that his swinging and chattering came to a sudden halt. “What can be better than mangos?”

“Come,” the crocodile invited. “See what my wife is planning to serve this evening. I will take you to her myself. Just hop on my back.”

The monkey jumped down from the tree and climbed onto the crocodile’s scaly back. Soon they were far from shore. The monkey was busy making patterns in the river water with his fingertips when the crocodile began to discuss the menu in fair detail.

“What?!” the monkey screamed. “She wants to eat my heart?!” He clutched onto his chest with both hands and wept to the sky, “What cruel fate!”

Quite a dramatic monkey he was.

“Cruel fate!” he continued. “What to do? Whatever to do?”

“You don’t need to do anything, little friend,” the crocodile said in a gurgling voice as river water flowed into his long mouth.

“You don't seem to understand, big friend,” the monkey insisted. “I've gone and left my heart in the tree! What with leaving in such a haste, I never thought....” His limber fingers worked through the fur on his chest as if groping for the heart usually kept inside.