I hate monkeys. I hate them. I don’t go places where they have monkeys. I don’t go to zoos. I avoid the 3rd Street Promenade where the street performers have monkeys. I hate monkeys. If I’m watching a nature program where they show pictures of monkeys, I change the channel. I hate monkeys.
Some people are afraid of spiders. Some people are afraid of heights. Some people are deathly afraid of public speaking. Not me. I have no fears of those things. I can do stand up comedy on a cliff with a spider in my hand and be just fine. I fear monkeys. Creepy, rabies carrying, biting scary little monkeys.
Some of you smart-ass biology minded people will undoubtedly wonder,”Are you talking about chimpanzees and gorillas?”
YES. All of them. I don’t like any of them. Ugh.
People that are afraid of flying feel JUSTIFIED in their phobia when they see a story of a plane crash. I read this story.
The chimps chewed off St. James Davis’ nose and severely mauled his genitals and limbs Thursday before the son-in-law of the sanctuary’s owner shot the animals to death, authorities said.
And now I am more than comfortable with my neurotic aversions!