.......Mr. Link has the night sweats again. It’s the same dream. The monkeys, the monkeys. There is one that is always prominent in his nightmare: George. Mr. Link rises from bed and slumps down the darkened hallway to the gameroom bar. A shot of courage from a bottle makes the world sane again. Flashback, Philippine jungles, late 1980s. Mr Link is on patrol for the USMC. He takes 30 rounds of ammo for his gun, but at the end of patrol he must account for each round. That’s the first problem. While shuffling along the border fence, he spies a group of monkeys in the trees. In the tropical heat, they become the enemy to Mr. Link. George, is the head evil-doer. In his fevered mind, Mr. Link believes that the monkeys have been taught to hate Marines and that the offenders must be run off. What will Mr. Link do? He curses the USMC for their red-tape policies! “A rock, a rock”, Mr Link mutters as he looks down at the sandy earth. There before him is all the ammo he will need and no one will account for this. In one quick movement he snatches a rock and thrust it in the direction of the Marine-hating George. Second mistake. George is smarter though. Like an outfielder for the Yankees, George snares the projectile and in a swift move returns the rock toward Mr. Links head. “In Coming!”, Mr. Link yells. He turns, the other monkeys, now agitated pick up rocks and hurl them at the retreating Marine. Mr. Link tears through the jungle never to return to border patrol. Present day. He downs the last shot. It is late at night: 8:45. He stumbles back down to his bed wrapping his head in the pillow of indifference. Another night, another nightmare. George, George, he mumbles.
