The captain laughed—a real, deep, belly laugh that shook the dust off the ficus plant. He scooped up the monkey, doubloon and all, and carried him to the kitchen.
“Fine,” he said, pouring himself a rum and cracking open a fresh jar of peanuts for his first mate. “Monkey business pays. But you’re still not getting the locket.” monkey business safe code
“Was it 7-2-4-8? Or 8-4-2-7?” he muttered, pulling at his white beard. He’d scribbled the code on a napkin two years ago, and the napkin had long since been used to clean a bilge pump spill. The captain laughed—a real, deep, belly laugh that
Mango tilted his head. He hopped down, scurried across the desk, and began pushing a half-empty jar of peanuts toward the edge. “Monkey business pays
The peanut jar tipped. It didn’t break, but it rolled in a wobbly circle, scattering peanuts across the floorboards. Mango shrieked with delight and scrambled after them, knocking over a stack of nautical charts.
Mango blinked, then slowly reached into the open safe, grabbed a gold doubloon, and promptly tried to stick it into his ear.