Monkeyin' Around

Last night around 11 p.m., both Brian and I heard what can only be described as a monkey. I was already in bed trying to fall asleep and Brian was in his room tooling around with a broken pair of headphones when we heard the first spooky strains of ooh-ooh-ee-ee-ee-ahh-ahh-ahh.

I thought I'd imagined it, but when Brian said he'd heard it too (and that he wasn't joking), I got a little panicked. Because, really, why on earth would a monkey be outside of our bedroom windows...or worse *gulp*, in my basement?! So, we each grabbed a weapon (I, a hammer, Brian, a crowbar) and proceeded to do a clean sweep of the house. We scoured every nook and cranny of the basement and went outside to survey the perimeter.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, our search turned up nothing. While this little drama unfolded, I couldn't help but wonder, what really made that sound? An actual monkey? The neighbor's dog? Some prankster teenagers? A burglar? Ahh! To help me sleep I pulled barricades (trash cans, chairs, American flags) in front of several of my doors.

The monkey hunters in all their fierce bravery. I'm in my pajamas, people.