It was a beautiful day in Langkawi. The air warm, though not too humid. The sky was clear. Here and there fat British tourists engaged in numerous watersports.

A nice enough day to go kayaking. To....MONKEY ISLAND!

I hadn't been to Monkey Island since I had a 486. So I thought it time I go again. We paddled through the Indian ocean in our two-person kayak. No problem, the water was quite gentle. We thought we would have a nice picnic on Monkey Island. We were wrong.

We arrive at Monkey Island. All our food was soaked in the kayak.

Damnit.

As we are getting situated on the island, I see a monkey. It's a male. I know this, because it's balls are bigger then it's little monkey head. I name him Uncle Poofling. He growls at me. I immediately assert my alpha male dominance by running back into the ocean. I then proceed to yell at the monkey, with thunderous charges such as "aw-ooh aw-ooh!".

This seems to throw him off his game a little. We figure let well enough alone, so we start to walk down the beach some to let the monkey have his domain. But he follows us. MONKEY! Realizing we can't win, we go back to the kayak and eat lunch.

Then it happens. He approaches. Teeth glaring in the hot afternoon sun, Uncle Pooflinger's grimy little monkey hands walks right up and steals my lemon chicken! Bastard!

He eats it in plain site of me. I can't take this.

He approaches once more, this time I think he wants to steal my fried rice. I pick up the kayak paddle and swing it madly, all the while making the most vicious "ewk, awk, boo-wah! boowah!" noises. I am able to frighten him into the bushes.

He tries two more frontal attacks, but each time I counter more viciously flinging sand into the bushes he now cowers in.

We leave monkey island, wet and hungry. Know this Uncle Pooflinger, we will meet again.