5.26.2004
There's monkeys and then there are monkies.
The monkeys I'm talking about are the ones that when, in a quiet room, you feel like someone or something is staring at you. You look up and the beast's fangs are already bared, and with a murderous look it leaps at you, screaming and clawing with a furious mixture of hatred and fear. You barely have time to cover your face when your enemy is upon you, and it has already scratched one of your eyeballs. You finally subdue the screeching, slashing, mad animal by bashing its head against a file cabinet, but it has already taken a chunk of flesh out of your left hand. You stand over the now-still body, shaking with adrenaline and nausea. You don't know if the thing is dead or unconscious...I was going to go on and on about shoveling it into a plastic bag because no one must know of your enemy’s presence here, and about how maybe you contract a rare disease from the bite, but I won't. But don't say I never warned you…