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80 There Are No Monkeys Here There are no monkeys here. The Water Tower University is spread over several hill-tops and plenty of greenery, but there are no monkeys. Over the mountains to the south side of Sann Tien, near the reservoir, is a sheltered valley where monkeys live and breed; but that is another place with another story. On the evening of the fifth of July, something strange took place in the undergrowth near Residence Number Nine on the campus. In the midst of the commotion, a monkey shot out, with blood on its mouth. Then followed the shrieks of a female voice interspersed with the calling of “Jake, Jake” in the most heart-rending desperation. Jake came to the Department of Commercial Studies three years ago. It was one of those fashionable departments that kept redefining itself. No one in the department knew what it was doing, nor did anyone else in the University. Jake, burly New York Russian Jew, with more than the usual iron in the blood, came, and saw the opportunity amidst the chaos. He soon became the head of department. Sometime in the past, he had worked as a bouncer in various nightclubs in New York and Paris. The University did not know about this, but they must have recognised that je ne sais quoi in him, since what they wanted was indeed a bouncer for the department. As for Jake, it was a good salary, there were additional perks, and the campus provided from time to time diversion in the form of aboutto -divorce wives looking for a novel perch, any kind of perch. One such was Mrs. Brentshaum, the wife of the Professor of Morbid Anatomy in the newly founded and much publicised Medical School. She had been contemplating divorce before she came with her 81 husband. She came anyway because the Far East was exotic. Jake was in the process of divorcing his Catholic wife, but she did not come over with him, even though the Far East was exotic. Mrs. Brentshaum and Jake made love often and well, to the complete satisfaction of both. All was going very well until Jake fell in love with a pretty young girl. The last time he had anything to do with Mrs. Brentshaum was the Christmas of two years ago, when, for reasons unfathomable to the outsider, Jake gave her a monkey for Christmas. Whatever symbiosis may or may not have grown between animal and mistress is anybody’s guess. Occasionally, she was seen carrying the monkey like a nursing child, walking about campus with the animal’s arms around her neck or bodice. After some months, Mrs. Brentshaum left the University and returned to Florida. Nothing was heard of her since. As for Jake, he continued to show his biceps at departmental meetings, and his other parts to the other at other times. The pretty young girl was taut as a stallion, at the same time, soft as many bags of down. Apparently, Jake had, in private, expressed great joy in her wonderful breasts. They were firm and shaped to perfection. Above all, he said, they were topped with a pair of the most luscious pink nipples. On that most deplorable of days, on the fifth of July, alas the day, it all happened then. After the evening of the fifth of July, the poor girl was left with only one luscious nipple. ...

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