Monkey Business

I finally found out who Desmond Morris is, and frankly I wish I never even heard of him. Turns out he’s head of the monkey mafia. Type his name into the internet and you’ll find a bunch of pictures of him surrounded by his monkey foot soldiers. Those bastards are vicious; one word from old Des and they’ll tear your face clean off.

Word on the street insists Des ain’t too happy about me splashing his name around, and he’s on his way north to teach me a lesson. I’m terrified, and I don’t mind admitting it. I spent the whole of yesterday morning stuffing bananas into every nook and cranny of my house, hoping the smell would distract those monkey motherfuckers long enough for me to high tail it out the toilet window.

In the afternoon I had another go at making laser beams come out my eyes. Did I mention I have superpowers? I bought a job lot off eBay a couple of months back. I can fly, move shit around without touching it and supposedly do the lasers out the eyes thing, although I haven’t been able to make that happen so far. I would ask for a refund, but then that would mean sending back the whole package, which I don’t want to do. That’s how these damned vendors get you, isn’t it? The flying aspect works great; once I get the hang of it I’ll save a fortune on bus fares. Only problem is I’m scared of heights, and whenever I go more than ten feet up I get all nauseous.

But – and I want to make this clear from the outset – the fact I have superpowers does not mean I have any ambition to be a superhero. No way am I going to go around in a latex jumpsuit with my underpants outside my trousers. I’m an ordinary bloke; my underpants have frayed elastic and holes in the gusset; no way am I putting them on display to the general public.

Superpowers can only take you so far, especially when the monkey mafia is after you. As I type these words I’m living in fear, peeping around the side of the curtains every five minutes, terrified I’m going to see Desmond Morris and his troupe of psychos storming up the drive. I’m supposed to be making an appearance on TV tonight; I’m not sure I even dare step foot outside the front door.