revenge of the monkeys

Oh, I believe it. As some of you know, my wife has an, ahem, interesting history with monkeys. The non-explicit chapter of her saga took place when we were at the Monkey Temple, near Jaipur, India. The temple area, straddling a spring and nestled in a narrow chasm, is full of monkeys. This particular day there were even more monkeys because (according to a local we met there) either a tiger or a leopard was on the prowl nearby. I imagine the monkeys thought it would be safer to mingle among creatures that are both more filling and less aware of their surroundings - namely, humans.

The same type of monkey assasin that sent the Indian official plummeting to his death also liked to have my wife feed him, as encouraged by the previously-mentioned local. One particular monkey, however, was a little problematic. He liked to hold my wife's hand as she fed him (not unlike myself), so my wife tried to reach out and pet him back. Mistake. Right when she touched his fur, his little hand darted out, grabbed her hair, and pulled her in as he stood there and stared this intense killer-monkey-stare right into her eyes. It took the local running over and prying my wife's hair out of the monkey's hands before the beast would back down. Apparently he's a bit of a control freak.

And for the record, the reason I didn't fend off the monkey ninja was because I was standing farther away than the local was. And the monkey better be glad for that, because if I had gotten ahold of him there would have been Rhesus pieces all over the place. Oh, I kill myself.