The monkey was staring at me.

I looked away, stepping aside to give it a wide berth. Making eye contact with animals always made me nervous since I knew some thought eye contact was a sign of aggression. Thinking of animal aggression always made me think of the chimp that tore off its owner's face, and only made me more nervous. The rain was falling harder now, seeping into my socks, the cold invariably a shock in the warm air. As usual, I hadn't brought an umbrella out with me. I've always thought they were too troublesome. This time, however, I'd been tricked by the sunny skies that had promised good weather.

I sped up to get away from the monkey and out of the rain. In my experience, monkeys didn't bother you if you didn't bother them first. However, today was clearly unordinary, because the monkey — a juvenile, from the looks of it — scurried to get in front of me, and we made eye contact again. It had big, round eyes that almost seemed to beg. For a second, I had the impression that it was trying to ask for a favor.

Which was ridiculous. To this monkey, I probably just seemed like the type of person to be carrying food. It would be disappointed though, since I wasn't. I sidestepped it once more, having already made far too much eye contact for my comfort. I could only hope that it didn't attack and give me rabies.

To my abject horror, the monkey moved with me. My nerves got the best of me and I broke into a light jog as I crossed the street to escape, past the point of caring if puddles splashed into my shoes. Animals were usually afraid of the street. Unfortunately, I turned to see the monkey chasing after me, all four limbs pumping. 

My nightmare seemed to play out in real time as the monkey gained on me before I could react. It reached up with its grubby paws, latching onto my leg. I was about to release a shriek that could rival that of a banshee when the monkey opened its mouth, revealing its sharp teeth, and spoke. "Please be my date for the wedding!" The monkey pleaded.

The monkey pleaded?

I stared at the monkey that had just spoken to me. "Come on! Bloody hell." It huffed, in the impatient way immature teenage boys sometimes do. Monkey had an attitude.

My mouth moved faster than my brain. "The what?" I questioned incredulously. "The wedding," He whined. It seemed like a he. "What wedding?" "The wedding today, be my date, please please please," He continued without pause. 

God, it was like talking to a – well, a monkey. On the bright side, chances were slim it was a hallucination. I didn't think hallucinations were so annoying. 

"Stop." I grabbed ahold of the monkey. He seemed less of a threat since he started acting like my nephew. "Start over. Whose wedding is today, and why do you need a date?"

Pro: He stopped whining. Con: He started bawling. I was now holding a small to mid-sized monkey shaking with sobs, wetting the fur on his face. "B-Because I'm B-British! I r-read the date wrong and now the fox's wedding is today and everybody's got a date and nobody will go with m-me," He wailed. "There hasn't been a sun shower in ages! I c-can't go without a date to a wedding of new beginnings, I'll be alone forever!" His pleading was almost preferable to the sounds he was currently making. 

Even so, I couldn't let him continue blubbering. I didn't know how monkey immune systems worked, but the boy was going to cry himself sick, even with the sun shining. "I'll go with you! I'll be your date." I folded like wet linen. Impossible talking monkey or not, I'd never been good at dealing with kids.

"Really?" He sniveled. "Yes, yes, I'll go to the – the fox's wedding with you, so stop crying, okay?" I hadn't gone to school in weeks anyway, one more day couldn't hurt. 

Imagine my shock when he turned and started dragging me down a nearby alley, a pep in his step as he chirped, "Brill! First, Crocodile's Boutique to get you presentable!" Not a hint of the previous weeping in his current demeanor. 

The phrase should be called monkey tears, I thought to myself. 

A left turn further down the damp alleyway brought us face to face with a large, well lit store with several long snouted mannequins sporting fashionable outfits. It was miraculous. I hadn't explored this area before, but even a homebody like me should've heard of a crocodile boutique. It was hard to miss. A bell rang as we stepped in, and the largest, frilliest crocodile I had ever seen emerged. She was dressed in a long, white shift with a frilly scalloped collar, frilly flower buttons, and frilly hems. Pearls hung in layers around her neck, making a gentle clashing sound as she moved. She gasped when she saw me and immediately started fussing over my outfit. I suppose I should've been offended, but I don't think anybody has the mental fortitude to be anything but overwhelmed by what I imagine a large cream cake would look like as a crocodile.

A flurry of activity ensued, the relentless spinning as I was crocodile-handled into new clothes leaving me feeling like I was on a rollercoaster with a loose seatbelt on. All too soon, Ms. Cream Cake had me trussed up and ready in an outrageous crimson ensemble complete with a high, ruffled neck, long puff sleeves that hid my forearms, and a skirt made entirely, it seemed, of ruffles. Her eyes were shining so joyfully that I didn't have the heart not to be the red velvet to her cream cake.

"Perfect!" The monkey cried when he saw me. I suppose this was what teenaged monkeys were into.

Pleased with his reaction, Ms. Cream Cake assured us it was a gift "for the special occasion" and urged us to hurry on down to the wedding. This proved to be a bit more of a challenge for a human sized red velvet cake than a human, but we managed to make it to the riverside where a crowd was forming.

The fox's wedding was clearly a much bigger event than I had anticipated. Throngs of animals in formalwear were gathered by the ornate wooden bridge, the drizzle hardly dampening their chatter. My monkey date quickly ran off, gleefully chatting to his smartly dressed friends and pointing every once in a while at me. He'd changed into a tuxedo one size too large for him, his trouser hems dragging on the pavement.

Suddenly, a hush spread over the bustling crowd. We all watched with bated breath as a skulk of foxes splendidly outfitted in crimson robes that matched their auburn fur approached the bridge. In the middle was an exquisite palanquin, the gently swaying curtains intricately embroidered in gold. Foxes in the front held paper lanterns and threw rice in high arcs, while those in the back beat a steady rhythm on small drums, the sound melding with the whooping of the crowd. As the palanquin passed by, a cold wind lifted the gold edged curtain. My eyes met with those of the bride within – a beautiful fox in delicate makeup, dressed opulently in red silk. The tassels in her hair swung as time itself seemed to stop. Rays of golden sunlight refracted off of the droplets of rain, the air fresh and crisp. 

"Don't give up," She mouthed.

The rain started to fall harder, streaming down my face and getting into my eyes. I struggled to keep them open, and when I wiped my face with my hands, I awoke.

I was in the bathtub, where I had been when I fell asleep. "A dream," I thought. I looked down. The color of the red velvet monstrosity was reflecting onto the bathroom walls. "Or maybe not."

I looked at the razor blade next to me. Carefully picking it up, I returned it to the cupboard. A new day had begun.