Enjoy this funny and easy short story in English for beginners! Follow Rohan and his clever monkey friend Monty as they get into big trouble over some mangoes. Perfect for kids and learners who love English short stories for beginners.
In a sleepy hill town, where the clouds liked to visit the trees and the wind whispered all day, lived a boy named Rohan and a monkey named Monty.
Monty was not an ordinary monkey. He wore red sunglasses, loved chewing bubble gum, and believed he was the smartest creature in the world.
“I have more brains in my tail than Rohan has in his whole head,” Monty often said—while scratching his belly and stealing bananas from the neighbour’s kitchen.
Rohan, of course, disagreed.
“You can’t even spell your name, Monty!”
“Why should I spell my name when I can swing from trees and eat mangoes all day?” Monty replied.
And mangoes—ah! That’s where the trouble began.
The Great Mango Tree
At the end of Rohan’s lane stood the biggest mango tree in town. It belonged to Colonel Chatterjee, a retired army man with a very loud voice and a moustache so sharp it could cut paper.
“No one touches my mangoes!” he shouted every morning at 7 a.m., even if nobody was there.
People said the Colonel had installed a mango alarm system and trained his cat, General Whiskers, to attack mango thieves.
Monty didn’t care.
One hot afternoon, Monty sat on the roof, licking mango jam off his fingers.
“I’m bored, Rohan,” he said. “Let’s do something fun. Like robbing Colonel Chatterjee’s mango tree.”
Rohan dropped his spoon.
“Are you mad? He’ll feed us to his cat!”
Monty grinned. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“Your last plan involved a beehive, and I’m still itchy!”
“Trust me,” Monty said, blowing a bubble that popped all over his nose. “This time, I’ve done the math.”
Operation Mango Munch
That night, at exactly 2 a.m., Monty and Rohan wore black clothes, black hats, and black socks on their hands.
“Why socks?” whispered Rohan.
“No gloves,” Monty said. “Monkey budget.”
They tiptoed to the mango tree.
Suddenly: MEOW!
“General Whiskers!” Rohan gasped.
“Don’t worry,” said Monty, throwing a fish-shaped slipper. “Distraction activated!”
The cat chased the slipper. They climbed the tree quickly.
One mango, two mangoes, five mangoes—
WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO!
“THE MANGO ALARM!” Rohan cried.
“ABORT MISSION!” Monty yelled.
But it was too late. A spotlight came on. A door creaked open.
“WHO GOES THERE?” shouted the Colonel.
They leapt from the tree with mangoes stuffed in their shirts. Monty ran on all fours, Rohan on two.
They jumped into a bush, tripped over a garden gnome, and rolled into a dustbin.
Silence.
Then: ACHOO!
The Colonel was close.
“General Whiskers, search the area!”
The cat sniffed the air, came to the dustbin, looked inside—and sneezed.
Monty had thrown some chili powder in the bin earlier to keep ants away. By mistake.
The cat fled. The Colonel followed.
Monty and Rohan rolled out, covered in mangoes and potato peels.
“Success?” Rohan asked.
“Great success,” Monty said, chewing a mango. “With just a hint of garbage.”
Monkey Trouble
The next morning, posters were everywhere:
“WANTED: Mango Thieves. Reward: 100 rupees and a plate of jalebis.”
Colonel Chatterjee marched down the lane, showing the town a drawing of a monkey in sunglasses and a boy with sticky hair.
Monty sat on the roof wearing a mustache made of coconut hair.
“No one will recognize me now,” he said.
“You look like a hairy pineapple,” Rohan sighed.
But just then, Grandma walked in.
“Why do you both smell like pickles and soap?” she asked.
“Long story,” said Rohan.
“I don’t want to know,” said Grandma, and left the room with two mangoes in her hand.
Monty’s eyes widened.
“She stole them from us!”
“No,” Rohan said, “we stole them from the Colonel, and she stole them from our mango pile. So now they’re… triple stolen.”
Monty looked proud. “Then we’re officially mango pirates!”
“Shhh! The Colonel is coming!”
The Mango Truth
The Colonel knocked on the door that evening.
He looked angry.
Rohan opened it slowly.
“Boy,” the Colonel said, “have you seen this monkey?”
He held up the poster.
Monty walked past, wearing a dress and holding a broom.
“Just my auntie,” Rohan said.
Monty waved in a deep voice: “Good evening, Colonel-ji!”
The Colonel narrowed his eyes.
Then he sniffed.
“Mangoes. I smell mangoes.”
Monty whispered, “Offer him one. Quick!”
Rohan ran and returned with a mango on a plate.
“Peace offering?” he said.
The Colonel took it, examined it, and smiled.
“You know,” he said slowly, “this is the tastiest mango I’ve had in years.”
Monty blinked.
“Want to try mango milkshake tomorrow?” asked Rohan.
The Colonel raised one eyebrow. “Only if you two help me climb the tree.”
Monty grinned. “We’ll be there—with socks and all.”
The Mango Club
From that day, things changed.
Every Saturday, Colonel Chatterjee, Rohan, and Monty had a secret mango party in the backyard.
They called themselves The Mango Club.
Even General Whiskers joined in—especially when fish-flavored chips were served.
Monty became the Club President.
“I knew stealing mangoes would make life better,” he said.
“You mean sharing mangoes,” Rohan corrected him.
“Right,” said Monty. “After all, mangoes are better when you don’t have to run from angry colonels.”
Everyone laughed.
Even the Colonel.
Even General Whiskers.
And the mango tree?
It still stood tall—full of fruit, full of fun, and full of stories.
