Monkey sits up with the crystals. Other people can sit with them too, but they all agree that Monkey likes sitting up with them the most. He would argue, if he had to, that his arms were longer than the rest, and thus he offers the best protection for them. But that isn’t really necessary. He’s allowed to sit up there are he pleases.
The crystals come from a magical place that is often depicted on beer bottles and used as templates for murals on town walls that promise adventure. It’s an ever changing landscape that melts through thickets of treachery, winding into burlesque trees with deep roots of consciousness, always giving way to a small summit of light. Or so Monkey was told.
Some would miss it. Most do. Those that have come to achieve see the summit as it’s own reward. Never did they think it would lead the way to something much more magical. For magic to them is nonsense; an immaterial goal told in folk lore that kept children happy and monsters at bay. Of course, they still believe in the monsters. Everyone does. That’s why Monkey serves as protector.
But as for the crystals, they can only be found by following the light at the summit.
Crystals are always found long before they could ever be recognized. Monkey doesn’t know this. So he protects the lasting material essence of what once was, and basks in his glory of today. And we all love Monkey for that.
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