The Rhino Who Wanted To Dance

Bongo the Monkey was the best dancer in the jungle. He had the moves, the rhythm, and the coolest sneakers. One sunny afternoon, a massive rhinoceros named Rocky trotted up to him with a shy smile.

"Excuse me, Bongo," Rocky grunted. "I’ve got the rhythm in my soul, but my feet don't know what to do. Could you teach me how to dance?"

Bongo grinned and adjusted his headband. "You bet! Let’s get groovy, Rocky. Just follow my lead. One, two, three—hop! One, two, three—slide!"

The jungle drums began to beat, and the duo started to boogie. Bongo was zipping around like a lightning bolt, and Rocky was doing his best to keep up. Thump, thump, squish! Rocky was really feeling the music.

But then, things went a little sideways. During a particularly fancy spin, Rocky’s big feet got tangled. He wobbled to the left, tipped to the right, and—OOF!—he landed right on top of poor Bongo like a giant, grey pancake.

"Help! I’m being squashed like a banana!" Bongo squeaked from underneath.

Rocky’s eyes went wide. "Oh, pickles! Sorry, Bongo!" He quickly rolled his heavy body away, red in the face.

Bongo scrambled up, gasping for air and checking to make sure his tail was still attached. He didn't waste a second; he zoomed up the nearest oak tree until he was safe on the highest branch.

"Phew!" Bongo panted, wiping his forehead. "I’m sorry, Mr. Rhino, but I think your dance lessons are officially over. I want to be a star, not a rug!"

Rocky sighed, but he understood. He decided that from now on, he’d stick to singing—it was much safer for everyone’s toes.

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