incapacitated.

The monkeys are becoming smarter and it appears that recently they have learned the art of breaking and entering...

When we get groceries here, we call in our order and then a few hours later it is delivered, not in a truck, but on a man's back. Every Sunday we go through the same routine: unload the goods, feed the coolie some juice, perform some kind of first aid on the man (last week it was a band-aid for a scratch inflicted by a passing motor bike and the week before, duct tape for his god awful smelling excuse of a shoe), pay a tip of about one dollar, and then go on our way. We rarely ever get around to putting the groceries away in a timely matter.

So, as always, 2 Sundays ago, the groceries were sitting on the table waiting for us to get a burst of motivation. Sometime in the two hours that followed, a monkey opened the door, came inside and grabbed only the bread, opting not for the eggs, broccoli, or cheese, then left, shutting the door behind him. It wasn't until we went to leave the house and noticed the empty bread bag in the yard that we realized we had been victims of theft. Word must have spread round the monkey community, because this Sunday they were back and ready for more groceries.

Nan had a group of 13 Eighth grade girls over for a brunch and they were in the kitchen cooking. I was upstairs showering when the first shouts began. Turns out, a few monkeys had opened the door and come inside, frightening the girls and stealing our precious bananas for the week. I was sad for a few minutes and got on with things when the second round of screaming began.

What followed was absolute disorder and confusion, which I am slowly attempting to block from my memory.

According to the girls, a few monkeys came into the kitchen where they were making pancakes, grabbed the last banana and then ran out, afraid of the teenage shrieking (rightfully so, Woodstock students are completley petrified of the monkeys). However there was a major issue: one of the monkeys panicked, and rather than going out the door it came in, it ran up the steps. There I was, fresh out of the shower, when I saw what I thought was a dog run past. It took about 30 seconds for me to realize that, no, we do not have a pet dog and this might be a bit larger of an issue.

Not ready to admit defeat, I peered around the corner of my bedroom door and watched as a monkey bounced on my bed, rammed into all of my things, played with my pillow, and stared at me with a freaking banana in its mouth....

I would like to think that I handled the situation as most people would do, by screaming bloody murder on repeat and eventually having enough nerve to yell for my sling shot...What I was going to do with the ammo-less sling shot I still don't know, but it seemed like the best option at the time.

Tiring with the exploration of my room, and afraid of the crazy lady, the monkey decided to run into Nan's room, where he again proceeded to bounce off the walls as I watched in terror. By this point I was boarderline heart trauma, and instead of attempting to save the day, all I could think about was rabies, and how I have been so proud of myself for making it two years rabies free, but now that would all go down the drain. A few minutes of tag mixed with hide and seek proceeded, with me still screaming at him all the while and the girls screaming from downstairs, 'Ms. Shriver, are you OK?!"
Finally I decided the best option would be to sacrifice myself by cornering the monster in hopes that after a quick bite he would sense his escape route and not harm the students. I was about to hatch out my plan when Nan, the superior of the primates, arrived in full survival mode to save the day.

We shut all the doors except the one to Nan's room and she managed to stick her head in through a window to scare it out. He ran downstairs where he got another quick dose of screaming from a bunch of eighth grade girls, before he made a grand exit out of the front door, victory banana in his mouth, leaving behind a few peels and many foot prints.

aftermath

In a final desperate act to redeem myself, I threw some clothes on and headed downstairs to recount the situation with the girls, hoping to laugh it off. It didn't happen and I found myself incapable of proper speech. It took a solid two hours before I had calmed down and was able to semi function; after all, it is not everyday that a wild beast is in your bedroom.

Monday morning at school, word had already spread through the eighth grade about my freak out and the incident. One student asked me if I had washed my sheets yet. I responded with a laugh and said, 'Are you kidding? I don't have a washing machine and I am not about to bucket wash my sheets then hang them up to dry so the monkeys can play on them again". The room went silent with disgust and I had an epiphany of sorts; I still have a long way to go before I qualify as a real adult.

Long story short, my room is currently infested with monkey germs (although I did flip over my pillow), my heart beat is still a bit irregular, my fear of the monkeys is now worse than it has ever been before, I jump at the slightest movements, and to top it all off, now my joints hurt because my potassium level is out of whack...