Full Credits

Stats & Data

December 19, 2010

The introductory story of an elite SWAT team made up of primates. They are heavily armed, extremely capable, and do not grasp the seriousness of the consequences of heavy artillery fire.

“Burt, we have a situation.”

I could hear Jack speaking across the squad room from my desk.  I could tell by the look on his face that it was serious.  I perked right up and turned on my female radar.

Jack went on to explain to our captain that there was a hostage situation at the local Walmart.  Although the details were sketchy, witnesses were able to count at least 5 armed men and a store full of the usual mixture of crazies, seniors, scum, and the wealthy.  Jesus, so many lives at stake.  Then I heard what I was dreading.

“Seriously, Burt, I think we have no choice but to call in The Team,” said Jack.  That was my cue.

“Now wait a minute, gentleman,” I said as I hurried over to where the two men were standing.  “You knew my position about this long before I headed up the organization of The Team, and my reservations remain the same.”  Then the men began with the eye rolling and the requisite sarcastic crotch grabbing.

“You don’t take our closest cousins, cash in on their ability to precisely site in on a target, and use that as a weapon for either good or evil.  We don’t even know what the monkeys will do.  What will happen if this all backfires on us?” I asked.

“Lisa, we have no choice.  It is a do or die situation, and the monkeys are our only hope.  We have too many armed assailants and a huge crowd of people.  We have to let the monkeys do what they were trained to do,” said Jack.  “We have to trust in the monkeys.”

I countered immediately.  “Monkeys don’t speak English.  Monkeys are silly things.  What if they have fun?  What if they have too much fun?”  But by then the men had lifted the handle of the phone to Team headquarters.  The bus would be heading out to take The Team to Walmart, and with it cautious optimism that we would all end up on the winning side of righteousness.

I caught a ride with one of the officers and would meet my Team on top of a building strategically located near the Walmart.  Police cars with lights on lined the streets.  Barricades were set up and residents in the area were evacuated.  I could see The Team bus making its way up the road to the parking lot of the building rooftop where they would be positioned.  Here they came in law enforcement uniforms, their gear carried by my fellow officers: special agent chimps Bippy, A.C. Delco, McMurtry, Chim-Chim, Cheeky, Melon Ball, Boomer, Soupy, and Slim.  Followed by agents Trombone, Kissy Lips, Daffodil, and Karen.  The moment of reckoning had come. 

I saluted my Team and placed them in their positions.  “Sit, stay,” I said, and I handed each a banana and kissed them on the lips.  My human counterparts broke out the sharpshooter rifles, armor piercing bullets, tripods, and flack jackets.   I signed to The Team to hold their fire and hoped for the best.  I said a little prayer which ended with, “Eeee eeee eeee, amen.” 

One of the armed men came out of Walmart and was speaking to one of our deputies on the ground with a bullhorn.  It sounded like he was providing a list of demands.  I pointed to the suspect and signaled The Team.  The monkeys were smiling.

I tapped my main ape, Boomer, and green-lighted him.  In a millisecond, he pulled the trigger and took our suspect out with a bloody headshot.  Another armed man came out, and Boomer nailed him too.  Chaos started to ensue, with yelling and two more armed suspects leaving Walmart.  The monkeys were in a tizzy and started firing, taking each suspect out with the precision of a futuristic, automated machine---a Terminator, if you will.  Then some people started running out of Walmart—a guy with a mullet, a woman in Ugg’s with a fresh manicure and a bitchy attitude, a husband and wife who were brother and sister.  I watched the monkeys start to bounce up and down with excitement.  “EEEEEE   EEEEEE  EEEEEE!” they were screaming with accompanied bouncing.  Then my greatest fear was realized.  “Boom!”  A monkey shot a squad car.  “Boom!  Boom!  Boom!” Three other monkeys shot a couple officers and a purple and orange Dunkin’ Donuts sign, a landmark of baked happiness.  More shots rang out, the monkeys were laughing and jumping, and then high fiving each other (I taught them that, which many well respected scientists said could not be done.).  Oh, the humanity! 

I called to The Team, “Look!  I have bananas!  As many as you want!  Drop the rifles and come to momma!”  The monkeys looked momentarily interested and then opened fire on Momma Mia’s Pizza Shop, Jade’s Smoke Shop, and a Dollar Store General.  (The last was okay with me.  They didn’t have anything good anyway.) 

I had to think of something quick to stop the madness.  The monkeys were so good, but they were having too much fun.  I took out a tube of lipstick and put it on my mouth with great gusto, all the while saying, “Oooooo, I LOVE this.  Ummmmm, this is so good!  I feel SO PRETTY!”  I caught some interest coming from the monkeys.  I took the lipstick and bit it.  I said in a breathy voice, “And it tastes SO GOOD TOO!”  The monkeys fell for it.  They dropped the rifles and ran for the lipstick.  I called to my other female officers, “Open your pockets, throw all the Chapstick, lipstick, and lip gloss you can find!”  Cherry, key lime pie and medicated Chapstick made its way up to the roof; red and pink and brown lipsticks; lip gloss that plumps the lips and others that taste like chocolate flooded the rooftop. 

The Walmart customers and staff were safe.  The armed men were dead.  The officers who took a hit were alive and pissed off at my monkeys, brought under control by the lure of beautiful lips.

And the moral of the story is this: Monkeys are excellent shots, excellent kissers, and they love having a pretty mouth, but never give them loaded weapons.


Or is it???