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You might have been wondering why I didn’t post for a few days. The story is both shocking and horrific…

There I was, walking down the street one fine morning, several days ago. As I rounded a corner heading into an alley (which I intended to use as a shortcut) I noticed a small monkey standing in the middle of the path, about 20 feet ahead of me. At first I was worried that he was an abandoned pet, in need of my assistance. But as I got closer, I noticed he was wearing a tiny eye patch, and was brandishing a letter opener at me. Making soothing noises, I came closer, trying to figure out where this little monkey had come from.

When I had gotten about 5 feet from the petite little ape, he screeched, and leapt at me. It is easy to forget just how far a monkey can jump when they want to, and in an instant he was on my face, biting me and whacking me with the broad side of his letter opener. At the same moment, several other monkeys jumped out from behind nearby trash cans, and joined their friend in attacking me. After a moment of fierce fighting, I was overwhelmed, and brought to the ground.

My first thought was that I was going to be killed, and torn to bits by these little beasts. But after knocking me unconscious, they drug me off to their hideout, instead of brutally killing me. When I awoke, I was tied to a chair in a damp concrete room. I could hear monkeys chattering in an adjacent room, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I tested my bonds, and found them quite secure. Soon a monkey poked his head into the room, and seeing that I had risen, called out to his compatriots in the next room.

The monkey with the eye-patch came in to see how I was doing. Instead of his letter opener, he now came bearing a Sharpie marker and a scrap of paper. He began to scrawl on the paper, and wrote in crude English, “U huooMan?” which I took to mean, “Are you a human?” I nodded, and he grunted happily. The guards around him nodded as well, pleased with my response.

After several hours of slow questioning, I began to assemble in my mind a picture of the situation. Apparently, the monkeys were part of a rebel insurgent group waging guerilla warfare on the city. It seemed that the police had captured a member of their group, and were attempting to arrange an exchange of hostages. As an employee of the local science museum, they had singled me out as a respected member of human society, and captured me in order to recover their comrade.

I was instructed to phone the chief of police, and to arrange for my transfer. They were to meet in the basement of a Steak and Shake that serves as a sort of neutral zone. Bongo would be released at the same moment I was, and I would rush into the arms of the police, while Bongo would run off into the night with his honor guard.

I made the phone call, and the chief grudgingly accepted to the terms. However, he noted that if I was hurt in any way, he’d call things off immediately. The scheduled transfer was not for several days, so they untied me and moved me to my own cell. I was kept in a broom closet, and fed overripe fruit twice a day. They allowed me a sampling of human magazines for amusement, but all they had was Sports Illustrated, Women’s World, and back issues of Teen Bop from 1992. Oddly, they seemed to think this was quite a crop.

Finally, the day of the transfer had come. They tied me up and put me in the back of a ‘73 Mini Cooper, which the monkeys had fitted with an inflatable human shaped ‘driver’ as well as auxiliary controls for the operation of the vehicle. Let it be said at this point that monkeys are terrible drivers.

After narrowly avoiding death on the motor-way, we finally arrived at the Steak and Shake. The police chief was waiting inside, and the monkeys rolled me into the room, tied up like a cigar. Bongo was seething from within a pet carrier cage next to the chief. The chief reached toward the latch of the cage, and the monkeys reached toward the knot holding my bonds. But just before we could be released, we heard a loud bang and the door to the basement room flew open. A greasy fry cook dressed in Steak and Shake regalia was standing in the doorway, brandishing two tommy guns. “Everyone get down! We are taking control of this meeting!” he shouted, sending a warning spray of bullets toward the ceiling.

At that moment it was obvious what had happened, the neutral zone had been compromised by a third party, and we were all being taken hostage. In a flash, the head monkey made a decision. He threw his letter opener directly at the fry cook, yanked on my bonds, and leapt behind a pile of boxes containing uncooked potatoes. Not fully understanding, I followed him as the other monkeys leapt through the air, aiming for other hiding places. Chaos ensued as gunfire was exchanged between sides. Crawling around behind the boxes, I ended up next to the chief, who handed me his sidearm. He was going to throw a box of milkshake flavor syrup at the attackers at the door, and attempt to disarm them with kung-fu. I was to provide covering fire from behind the buns. I nodded, and he was off. As he threw the box of syrup, bullets tore through its outer skin, spraying sticky, mint flavored goo all over the room. Suddenly, he was on top of the assailants, fists flying. The monkeys made their move simultaneously, jumping on the attackers and biting them fiercely.

Seeing my chance, I took aim and fired a single shot, knocking a grenade out of the hand of one of the attackers, saving our lives. Soon the monkeys and the chief disarmed the final attackers, and tension rose as the monkeys and the police turned to face one another. I called out for a truce, and at once, the monkeys gathered themselves, and fled. But as the last monkey dashed away, the leader monkey poked his head around the corner, glaring at us with his one eye. “Until tomorrow!” he screeched, in barely intelligible English, as he grabbed his letter opener off the floor, and disappeared.

After being checked for wounds, the chief shook my hand, and sent me on my way. After getting cleaned up, I finally arrived at home to write this.

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