There wasn’t much that Mr. Sanders could do. Dozens of hairless monkeys had invaded his pristine condo a couple days ago. They had hair before they came, but they stole Mr. Sanders’ razors–every single one–and shaved each other down to the skin.
Mr. Sanders could not even enter his own kitchen: the monkeys barricaded it with furniture and had round-the-clock guards standing at the entrance. Each of them wielded large kitchen knives, so there was no getting by them. Any time Mr. Sanders tried to go in, the monkey guards would holler, screech, then shit in their hands, holding it up in a threatening manner.
One time one of them even threw it: it smacked Mr. Sanders in the face, but there was nothing he could do… He walked away in shame up to take a shower–already late for work.
Late one night, something in Mr. Sanders snapped. “There must be something I can do,” he thought, “I can’t live like this. I don’t live next to a zoo or a jungle. How the hell did they find their way here?”
The next day Mr. Sanders decided to call animal control:
“Please, I’m desperate… These monkeys are ruining my life. I’m going broke from eating out all the time. I haven’t been laid in a month…”
“We’ll send somebody right away, sir. Don’t worry.”
About an hour later, a man dressed in what looked like a combat hazmat suit banged on the door.
“Please, come in,” Mr. Sanders said, “I’m so glad you’re here!”
The animal control guy had a hazmat mask on. He sounded like Darth Vader when he spoke. “Show me the kitchen,” he said. “That’s where they’re congregating, correct?”
“Yes, right this way…”
As they approached the kitchen, the monkeys started hooting and hollering. Piles of poop started flying from behind the couch barricade, striking both Mr. Sanders and the animal control guy.
“This is more serious than I thought…” the animal control guy said, “They are extremely organized. We have to call back-up…”
He grabbed his radio: “We’ve got a code Deep Brown. I need back-up, ASAP.”
Not even ten minutes later the sound of helicopters filled the air outside. Mr. Sanders looked out one of his windows at the scene outside: there were at least three helicopters hovering, two tanks rolled down the street from opposite directions, and dozens of people dressed like the animal control guy marched toward the condo.
“Jesus, lord,” Mr. Sanders shouted. “Is this really that serious?”
The animal control guy looked Mr. Sanders dead in the eyes with nothing but stone-cold seriousness on his face. “Damn right it is, kid… We need to end this before it gets any worse. I mean–good lord, man–they all shaved each other. You should’ve called us a lot sooner.”
“What’s up with that–the shaving?”
“You don’t want to know, kid… Come on, we have to get outside.”
As soon as they got outside the animal control guy ran over to what looked like his superior. Mr. Sanders took in his surroundings with astonishment. It looked like a scene out of a war movie. Men with guns were everywhere. They took up defensive positions behind the tanks and humvees, aiming their rifles at the house. The helicopters circled overhead, shining their spotlights down through the windows of the condo. On the roofs of buildings across the street, snipers were poised and ready.
“Mr. Sanders!” the animal control guy called, “Would you step over here, please!”
The animal control guy kept quiet and let his superior talk: “Now, Mr. Sanders, could you tell me, roughly, how many monkeys are in your condo?”
“I’d say at least a dozen or so. Maybe more…”
“Jesus…” the superior looked up to the sky as if to ask God for help. “Let’s try gassing the place…” He started waving his arms above his head, looking in the direction of the men closest to the condo.
“Listen up!” he shouted. They all turned to look at their commander. “Gas it!” he ordered, “I’m talking light that fucker up!”
About a dozen of the men got into position and launched gas grenades through the windows of the condo. Loud thumps started sounding off in the building and gas poured out through the broken windows. The monkeys screeched and, all of a sudden, the grenades started flying back into the street.
Gas filled the air.
“Quick!” the animal control guy yelled, "Put this on!
Mr. Sanders grabbed the gas mask and shoved it on as fast as he could…