Carrier monkeys and me

Mel Anderson
S-E Staff reporter

There’s a movie with my kiddos in it.

It’s a Dustin Hoffman movie where some guy illegally imports a monkey from Africa who happens to be carrying the Ebola virus, which then causes the titular outbreak that eventually leads to military personnel deciding to drop nukes on an entire city before Dustin Hoffman swoops in with a cure to save the day and Rene Russo.

The carrier monkey is my children, and probably all children ever.

They’re small and cute and cuddly and adorable, with little chubby cheeks and big doe eyes and secretly carrying a plague strong enough to leave you snorting chicken soup through a straw for the rest of your very short life.

I swear, my children must carry more germs than Italian sailors at the height of the bubonic plague outbreak in the dark ages.

Maybe their goal is to bring the return of the dark ages.

I have no idea how they pick up so many germs. I swear I taught them to wash their hands and not lick random objects.

In fact, I clearly remember looking at Maggie when she was three and saying: “Don’t lick that,” when she decided the meat counter at the local grocery store resembled a popsicle and licked the entire length of the counter before I caught her while ordering a pot roast.

There must be a game at school where children sneeze directly into each other’s faces and whoever spreads the deadliest virus wins.
My highly competitive children definitely win.

I wouldn’t be surprised if children all over the community who can’t even spell their own names have formed a secret society where the goal is to make all adults everywhere blasted sick for three days so they can topple elected leadership and establish a new world order alarmingly similar to “Lord of the Flies.”

Well, I am on to you, children. The FBI and CDC might not take me seriously when I tell report this very serious threat to national security, but I take me seriously and that’s all that matters.

I am on to you and I am armed with NyQuil, Kleenex, Vapor Rub, vitamin K in case of nuclear fallout, a zombie apocalypse escape plan and a gas mask. I am ready to dress you in hazmat suits and bathe you in hand sanitizer. I am ready to nuke my house with bleach and ammonia (not at the same time, of course) and fortify my immune defenses with copious amounts of vitamin C.

You, children, carrier monkeys, walking biological weapons, will not take over the world while I’m watching.

Also, we’re having peanut butter sandwiches for dinner until I feel better. Guess your evil, world domination plot backfired.

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