Well the answer to that, my Monkeyfreshmen, is a few lines above. It's those big, orange letters. Yeah, the big ones.

But that's just sarcastic and rude, I suppose.

A more useful answer is that I, the Monkeyking, work at a cafe/artisan bakery much like the one featured here in Metro Bread. The bread department is closed off from the outside world. We are insulated from the customers, and the customers are protected against our dirty selves. Tom-foolery followed naturally.

Time passed. We grew more and more comfortable in our aforementioned insulation. Our tom-foolery grew more and more outlandish, more and more out of control. We became cut-ups. We became jokers. We became the living essence of zaniness.

The other departments bore witness to this, and we became self aware.

We realized that we had it good, and we enjoyed it. And in the spirit of the horrible tradition that reality-television has become, we wondered if maybe, just maybe, others might enjoy watching us have it good.

And then I started reading web-comics and decided I could do one myself. Viola.

For the sake of privacy and what-not, the names of the people have been changed. Places, when mentioned, will not be identifiably real. Not all of the characters in the strip are real people. Some have been created to fill a niche. Some are the result of a mind-boggling fusion of more than one real person. Also, though we do make bread and goof off, the fighting evil part might be a little false.