"Good morning, Kevin. It’s monkey hunt day. Are you ready?"

"Last week, you said today was Sunday. The fourth commandment says no working on the Sabbath, which definitely means no monkey hunting."

"The Jewish tradition is objectively correct. Shabbat is 24 hours starting Friday at dusk. The Sabbath ended twelve hours ago."

"The Joos are already running this dimension? My faith is being oppressed."

“Firstly, records suggest that your only religious observance is Black Sabbath's drummer.

"Only Ward. Appice and Powell suck."

"Secondly, you might not have to fight. You could ask the monkeys to wait a day. Last request and such. You might find there is honor among monkeys."

"New world, don't have to keep the same day-names. Yesterday was Sunday, and today is Mon...kday. Fine. Bring on the little bastard. I’ve got drum practice to get back to."

Scree-aaa--ooooh

“I do believe that’s your dance partner”

“Go smoke one of your own leaves.” I’d been waiting to use that one. Occasionally I get a thought while drumming, and usually, I can just let them go, but that one was great.

There’s a rustling in the jungle, and another one of those damn monkeys heads out. I bend my knees. Coach Budkovsky always used to say you gotta start with your knees bent if you want to move fast. Also, the damn monkey won’t see how much reach I’ve got if I’m a bit lower.

I’m in the grass outside my hut, leaving the monkey with fewer chances to use the environment. I don’t really trust the construction, so I’m not gonna use my tail to throw me around the post. And now the monkey can’t either.

That’s one angry looking monkey. He’s moving pretty fast, but I’ve got thirty yards as he exits the trees. Balls of the feet. Gripping my three batons. I get low enough and wait. Trying to look small. Monkey beast gets close, flying jump with lots of claws. I swing both front batons trying to chop him in three. I knock the shit out of one of his arms, but he’s able to grab my stick as it hits him, and use the leverage to twist over my other swing. Pushing back away, the monkey’s 8 feet back before I notice. And I’m bleeding from 6 deep scratches down my left arm. Fuck that hurts.

“Scree scree,” screams the monkey in front of me. At least it looks like I broke it's arm. It's skittering about on three limbs. I've got this in the bag.

“Scree scree,” screams a second monkey in the jungle.

Fuck. “Alec,” I yell, watching the monkey intently as it stands up and screams at me again, “ how many monkeys did you say were in this second trial?”

“I didn’t.”

Monkey zigs to his left, jumps right at my right shoulder. Swinging both sticks again as a feint, I step back while the monkey flies, and swing my tail baton with everything I’ve got.

Crack. The monkey is knocked to the side and lands four feet away. Looks like I broke its leg. It’s not standing up well. Trying but failing. Two limbs down, and without it’s ability to jump, it’s not much of a threat

Scree scree

Two more monkey-voices sound off, much closer than I thought they were. Quickly, I use my extra reach and three weapons to finish off the one on the ground. One extra scratch on my hand, but I’m hitting fast and hard until I get a good hit in, and its head cracks like a watermelon. Disgusting, but at least this one won’t bite my leg when the rest show up.