I don’t see the monkeys yet, but I can hear them in the jungle in front of me. I need something bigger. What’s here? I look around. I have my marimba. But it’s bigger than the bed. The bed? A crapton of drums. Cymbals. Shoulda got marching band gear.
“Alec. Can I buy marching band Cymbals?”
“I seem to be having some technical difficulties. You’ll need to wait about 5 minutes.
“Fucking useless, overgrown algae. Your father was an incel”.
The two monkeys. Thank God there’s only two. Burst from the trees, sprinting together. I slip 2 more sticks into my right pocket so I can grab and throw or in case I drop one. And then I head out to meet them, still stalking forward low. Snake walk my Karate instructor said when I was 6. I figure I’ll take the bigger one on the left first...though they’re almost the same size. Just as they reach me, and I’m about to swing, they stop, and dodge quickly in two different directions. Now they’re on both sides. I’m backing up, trying to keep them both in my field of vision.
They both scream and jump at me. Synchronized killing. 8.5. 10 from the korean judge.
As I step back, I find my tail is on the ground, slowing me while I back up. I lean all the way back onto the tail, and two-legged kangaroo kick the big one on the left while flailing right with my right-hand stick.
I feel crunches from the big monkey as it flies away. Ronaldo shoots and scores. Goooooooaaaaal. The other monkey damn near takes my arm off. I couldn’t see where it was while I kicked the chunky monkey. Vicious little shit has 4 limbs and a mouth, and all of them were busy ripping up the arm. Fucking surprised it’s still attached. I chase it off me with the other 2 sticks, but I’m bleeding hard here. No missing parts though.
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It's a new fight. One fresh, vicious monkey that wants to eat me, against me, my good, right arm shredded, a missing stick, and bleeding out.
Monkey sees the advantage and jumps again. Good news. He can’t turn while in the air. I fall over, and while he’s still flying, throw my leftie stick at him. Hit. No impact whatsoever. Maybe he’s more mad now. Grabbing one of the sticks I tucked in my pocket, I stay still with 2 sticks ready. Fucking blood leaking down my arm.
Monkey jumps again. I drop again, but this time onto my stomach, as my weight falling helps to accelerate my tail stick into the monkey’s face at like 70 M.P.H. I scream and black out when my arm hits the ground.
87 seconds later, according to Frodo, I wake back up. Fumbling around, I grab the heal-paste from my left pocket and pour it all over my arm. Used up the whole tube. Apparently I’m not dead, no thanks to that green fucking useless sac of sap. Work hard. You’ll learn. Almost die a couple times. Builds character. OK, zoomer.
Still panting, I’m at least not painting the grass red any more. As my arm starts to heal, I walk over to each of the 3 monkeys, and collect the thaums for the kill. 103 r-thaums total, plus my remaining seven puts me at 110, which I combine and drop in my left pocket. I also go collect the escrima stick I threw, and the one my right hand dropped.
Shit. I had been holding 5, right? Two in the pocket and three limbs for thwonking. "Billy Thwonk Good." That flick was non-stop action. Anyhow, where's my stick? Can't have fun with no stick. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I look down just in case I'm being stupid. Nope. No stick in the pocket. I drop the two I just picked up in my right pocket again, and move my tail stick to the left hand so I can look for the 5th. The sticks go all the way in.
I’m 6’2”. My escrima sticks are 2.5 feet long. That's longer than my thigh. And they just dropped all the way into my pocket. Pockets are 4 inches deep, maybe. WTF? Reaching in, there are indeed 3 sticks in my tiny right pocket.
“Hey, Dickweed. What’s up with the pockets?”