Monkey Hunter

The monkey stares at me and I meet it's gaze with a look of insanity. As the enraged primate's screech climbs in pitch and volume I tighten my grip on the shotgun and press it firmly against my shoulder. The weapon is a relic of a bygone era; nobody seems to have much use for a double barreled 8-gauge shotgun anymore. I have a use for it though, it is a perfect death-dealer in my eternal monkey-hunt. Both barells are loaded with slugs and at 20 yards a marksman of my caliber will almost certainly hit with both. The screaming monkey is still observing me in anger and confusion, it steps closer and I discharge both barells at its forehead. Before it can even open its eyes in terror at the terrible noise the projectiles slam in, and through, the mock-human monstrosity. As the mangeled and headless corpse hits the ground with a dull thud the zoo security guards finally reach and tackle me. Amid the crying of children and the shocked voices of their elders the guards restrain me and walk me away, presumably to prison. It may be jail for the present, but before long I will be free. DEATH TO ALL MONKEYS!!!