Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, remember? This was inspired by Thundercatroar when she mentioned Monkeyman was going to be one of her lead characters in a story she was thinking about. This will without a doubt remain a one-shot. Read, Review, and Spread the word.
HA
The station was loud, officers taking statements and doing the dreaded paperwork. One such young officer, fresh out of the academy by a few years now, was on the phone with an irate elderly woman complaining about the damn noisy brats that wouldn't stop shooting off fireworks. Ah, the Fourth of July in Hillwood City was always an excellent time to be a cop.
Even though the woman couldn't see him, the young man nodded to her ravings, tapping his badge on the desk slowly but without any particular pattern. He was slouching, and a quick look around at his fellow officers showed him that he was not alone. When he was finally able to get a word in edgewise, he found himself sitting up and holding his hands defensively, even though the woman still couldn't see.
"Mrs. O'Grady, Mrs. O'Grady; I'm sorry madam, but it's the Fourth of July weekend. Those kids are within their legal rights to light off fireworks; there's nothing I can do." He tried to pacify, speaking calmly almost as if she were a child. Well, a child with her own legal rights and a lawyer.
She hung up muttering curses about American cop-pigs and how useless they were; that she would just spray all the cherry bombs and bottle rockets and flashers with her garden hose.
It was times like these that he tried to remember why exactly he became a cop. There was an oath once, a long time ago when he had first entered his teen years; they served him well when he went by a name not accompanied with a police badge. Protect the weak and downtrodden – that was the first in his credo.
How many times have we awakened to the frightful cry –
Monkeyman!
He had forgotten, somehow, what he had done dressed in ratty jeans, a t-shirt with his trademarked 'M', and a cape while living with his Aunt and Uncle. How could he have forgotten what he once was, and what influenced him into his career today?
How many times have we seen him with the corner of our eye,
Never stopping, always speeding by.
He had a mullet back then, and hung around in an old warehouse with bananas. It was his warehouse, his hide-away, his secret lair. Back when he had another name, another life. Serve for the good of all; the second in his credo, or creedo as he was often caught spelling it. Isn't that a reminiscent of the code he lives by today: to protect and serve? He was no stranger to helping people in this manner.
A flash of his cape, down the alleys he streaks
Scampering up fire escapes like a freaked-out chimpanzee
Monkeyman!
Be kind to all creatures, that was the last part of his creedo, his motto, his oath to the people of Hillwood. He was a nuisance, plain and simple. They certainly didn't want an unemployed twenty-something running around the city streets at night dressed like a superhero. Maybe that was what he thought he was, and why he quit. He was a terrible superhero, but makes an excellent averagehero. He was first in his graduating class at the academy, was hired on the spot and has been rising through the ranks ever since. He was mildly surprised when none of his COs or comrades recognized him as the crazed vigilante with a monkey obsession that they always made fun of.
Some say he's a force for good
A twisted urban Robin Hood
Defending the weak and downtrodden
He must not have been a very good hero except to the kids, like Arnold, and Sid, because not only do cops not remember his face as the one of that long-ago champion, but he had no arch nemesis. Or maybe he had, but they were as terrible as him, because he doesn't remember them. And maybe they don't remember him either; like all those years were one long dream, the kind that upon waking up, recall only fragments.
Some say he's a force for bad
A tricky and conniving cad
Forlorn and just plain rotten
He must have had an enemy, because he hung up his cape and call when he began dating the woman that later became his wife. He couldn't just have her in harms way every night while he's out saving the city, could he?
"Hey, Officer, your shift was over fifteen minutes ago; whatrya still doin here?" His partner laughed while slapping him on the back. That was game they always played, referring to each other as Partner and Officer, sometimes Sir and Ma'am, especially when it came to startin' and quitin' time.
"Yeah yeah, I hear ya Partner. I'm goin." He laughed, and grabbed his coat from off the back of his chair as he walked out with her. When the two left the building, they were hit with an outrageously hot blast of air, the layer of sweat already building.
Still others say he's some guy in pajamas
Living on stolen bananas
Who knows? No one's ever talked to him
After bidding each other a fond farewell and promising to get their families together - after they both changed - for a barbeque, he turned left to go on his merry way. Now that he was a cop, his life was once again in danger, more so now than it had been before he dropped the cape. His wife's life was at risk every now and again, so why couldn't he just pick up the code once more? He was always happiest when he was the alter-ego, and had never really been the same since that day nearly seven years ago when he left it all behind.
But if you find yourself in the heart of downtown
Keep looking around
Because you just might run into him...
He stopped walking for a moment, looking up and down the street to see if anyone was around. With a mischievous smile on his lips, he inhaled deeply while taking off at a dead run.
"MONKEYMAN!"
Monkeyman.
HA