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It's well known among survivalists that sooner or later if you're lost in the rainforest you're going to have to eat a monkey. It inevitably happens, every time. You need food to eat, and monkeys are made of food. They're literally made of food!

Might as well get it out of the way early.

Monkeys are smart and curious critters, which makes normal hunting techniques ineffective against them. But you know the trick.

"I bought you something for your birthday," you shout into the dark forest, "But you're not allowed to see it yet."

At first there's silence, but then, a voice behind you. "Let me see."

You hunch over as if you're hiding something in your hands. "Noooooo," you tease, "Noooo it's not your biiiirthday yettt...."

"Let me see," the voice says again, this time closer. You mustn't look, if you look the jig is up.

"Well," you say sweetly, "Okay maybe a peek, but you have to pretend to be surprised."

Hot breath in your ear. "Show me." the voice says.

You move your hands apart slowly, and the owner of the voice leans toward them, eager to see what they were hiding. What was hidden, of course, was your sword, which you drive point-first directly into the monkey's curious face. "HORG" it says in shock and surprise, then it dies.

You start a campfire and begin the process of preparing and preserving all the food out of the monkey. It's quite a bit of labor, so you allow yourself the pleasure of consuming the monkey's sweetmeats as you work.

"You sick person," a voice says. It's the disembodied voice of the monkey. "How dare you eat that monkey. You now feel ashamed of yourself."

Deep WIP Eater of Flesh