Fuzzy Slippers, Mr Monkey?

Mr Monkey looked at the growing stack of papers to file today, the dumbstruck chickens and his worn leather club chair in the corner by a solitary window. Mr Monkey then walked over to the calendar near the stairwell down to his bedchambers and circled Saturday the 28th, the last day of February. That day, Mr Monkey decided, would be the day on which from the time he woke up until one pm he would sit in his leather chair, wrapped in his smoking jacket, with fuzzy slippers on his feet and drink a cup of tea while reading whatever he damn well chose. Yes. Saturday! Saturday the filing could bugger off for a few hours while he took a breath and relaxed.

Here's hoping the chickens don't take that opportunity to escape.