Monkey Attack

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About 9 years ago our neighborhood was terrorized by an escaped monkey. It was one of our neighbors that had it as pet, but the sneaky bastard found a way to escape (a regular Michael Scofield). So for a week or so the monkey, brook into houses, stole food and beat down some pets.

Let’s skip to when my sister and I came face to face with HIM. It was a regular Saturday morning; Dad went to meet some friends and mom left to buy some groceries. It was just me, my sister and our dog Bobbi. We were watching some Cartoon; I think it was samurai Jack, when we heard some noise coming from the back yard. We taught it was nothing, and then we heard something break.

Bobbi ran out and started barking, we flowed him. Arriving at the backdoor we saw the beast from hell, the demon monkey (I know it sounds a bit dramatic, but remember I was just 5 or 6 year old).

103ae317aacb5e55671933f62411b5fc686ab5f5b7f78ec00b8e77ffb8fd63afSo we’ve done the same thing you would’ve done in our place, we RAN, to my bedroom. We closed the door, stood in a corner, hugged each other and started screaming for mom.

Meanwhile, Bobbi was fighting this intruder. He managed to scare him away. Then our brave savior came to the door to let us know everything was okay. But we were to scare to do it. We stayed there for an hour until our mother came back.

This was the day I faced danger… and ran away from it as any reasonable person would do.

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