No Relief for the Wretched

Warning: This is gonna be one of those nasty stories.

With a full crew and a full house, privacy and peace of mind is a hot commodity here in the monkeyverse. Not that I have a problem with any of my coworkers specifically–it’s just that my comfort level is far beyond a tiny house crowded with people, especially if those people are generally sweaty, muddy, and stinking of monkeys.

I can usually turn to the forest to provide the solace I need. Since losing track of the monkey group a few days ago, we’ve had to spend many hours tracking them down or staking out popular feeding sites. This provides us with precious down time, something I desperately need.

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It’s not like these bastards are likely to provide.

But the onslaught of claustrophobia and cabin fever must be getting to me, because in my reverie I let my guard down. I forgot that while the jungle may be my solace, it is not my friend. Nature here has no interest in making me comfortable or letting me relax. An I paid for my hubris in a terrible way. A terrible, painful, humiliating way.

Yesterday I had to–excuse the expression–take a dump, and found a massive hollow tree with nice, wide buttress roots. I checked the ground for ants and snakes, but must have missed the narrow fissure between two roots. It was low to the ground and tilted down, hard to see but perfect for the wasps nesting inside.

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It’s still better than some public toilets I’ve seen

They didn’t emerge until I had my pants off and was practically squatting over them. Then they went for the first and most presentable target they saw. It was…an unexpected sensation, to say the least.

The first thing I did was to leap forward and yell loudly. My pants were still around my ankles, and I was too scared to pull them up for fear of trapping the wasps inside. I just swatted them through my legs, then tripped and fell against the tree. Immediately a swarm of bats poured out, twittering, into the flailing human.

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Eh, still better than some public toilets I’ve seen.

I had to stagger a few meters away before the wasps showed me mercy. Then I took care of business in peace. Wiping was one of the most painful things I’ve done to myself. The itching lasted all day. I never thought I would be so grateful to go home to a tiny, crowded house.

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