Then, the big one said something about kidnapping a human, and the others were nodding.One was licking his lips. Another rubbed his hands together. That's all I needed to hear. Iboogied out of there so fast I spilled Jim Beam all over my bathrobe.The next day, Dana was in the garden with a concerned look on her face. There were gorilla-sized footprints in her fresh topsoil. A few of her homegrown tomatoes were gone. She wasalways going on about those fucking tomatoes."We can buy more, honey," I said, not looking up from the paper."You can't buy homegrown tomatoes," said Dana, annoyed. I rolled my eyes, knowing that the bluegrass was coming again.
"There's only two things that money can't buy,"
she sang. I was sosick of this song.
"And that's true love - and homegrown tomatoes.”
My eyeball twitched."Besides," she said, "what am I going to put in the gift-basket for our new neighbors?""Neighbors?" I said, looking over the top of the newspaper. Behind her, a dark, hairy face with wide eyes was staring in through the window, looking at Dana, licking his lips."Yeah," she said. "Last night I saw lights on next door. I think someone moved into Tom'sold house.""You don't say," I said all deadpan."I'm gonna go give them a gift basket."The words "fucking gorillas," were on the tip of my tongue. But I bit it."Do you wanna come?" asked Dana.I blinked."Well?""No," I said."Are you sure?"I nodded my head slowly. My palms had gotten clammy all of the sudden. When Dana left and the house was finally silent, I went to my stash and poured myself a victory shot.The shrieking was brief and intense. As I recall, the gorillas tearing her apart and eating herhad a sort of melodious, musical quality. Almost erotic. I knew that this song was going tobe stuck in my head, and for once, I was going to enjoy it. Then it was silent again and Ipoured myself another shot. Fucking gorillas.