The bus station security guard opened the door to the bathroom stall. The man inside jumped and quickly zipped his pants closed as he ran out, knocking the guard down. George wasn't so lucky. Because he was standing inside a paper shopping bag to hide his feet from outside view, he tripped while trying to escape. The guard scrambled up and grabbed George by the arm.
"Well, well," said the security guard. "What an odd thing to see. I've busted gay prostitutes in here before, but I've never busted a monkey."
George was embarrassed. He didn't want to sell his little monkey body, but he needed money for drugs. He looked sadly up at the guard.
"I'll tell you what, monkey. I won't call the police this time. But if I ever see you in my station again I will." He released George's arm. George ran outside before the guard could change his mind.
-----
The man with the yellow hat still felt terrible. He hadn't wanted to beat George, but it was for his own good. The monkey was just too curious, always causing trouble. When he stole those balloons it had cost the man a lot of money to pay for them, and that was the last straw. While he was punishing George, the monkey had squirmed out of his grip, bit him, and ran away.
That was a month ago, and he hadn't seen George since.
-----
"I wish I had some smokes," thought George. He patted himself down, but didn't find any money. The man in the bathroom had run away without paying! "If I had a pimp, that man would be sorry. Oh, well. I can steal cigarettes."
He quickly climbed a light pole and, from there, jumped to the top of a bus. When they passed a liquor store he jumped off, landing atop a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk.
George looked through the window. There was a customer inside. She was yelling at the clerk and waving her arms, and she had bad skin. "She's not really mad," he decided. "She's probably just a meth addict."
He waited, and when she opened the door to leave he slipped inside. George wasted no time. He jumped straight onto the counter and reached for a carton of cigarettes. "Hey!" yelled the fat clerk. "Monkeys need money just like everyone else!" George snatched up the nearest bottle and smashed it against the man's head. He knew it was wrong to waste good wine like that, but he really wanted a cigarette.
The man fell down and went quiet, and a lot of blood came out of his ear. George took the smokes. Then he grabbed another bottle of wine and took that, too. "Why waste an opportunity?" he thought.
-----
The man with the yellow hat put down the phone, then slumped in his chair. That had been the third person to call about the "Lost Monkey" poster, and it had been the third false alarm. Maybe George was gone for good.
He picked up some paper and began writing.
"Dear George. I'm sorry I beat you and drove you away," read the note. "I can't live with myself. Maybe dying will make the pain stop."
The man stood, walked to the kitchen and put the note on a table. Then he removed his yellow hat, turned on the gas oven, and put his head inside.
-----
"That man with the yellow hat is to blame for everything," thought George. "None of this would have happened if he hadn't smuggled me out of Africa." He took another long drink from the bottle. "He's a poacher. I hate him, and I hate his stupid yellow hat."
Then George had an idea. He knew where the man kept his money. He had another swallow of wine, then jumped atop another bus.
Fifteen minutes later George dropped to the man's lawn. "I'll kill the man and take his money. Then I'll never again have to sell my little monkey body to buy drugs." He lit a cigarette and entered the house.
Inside, George wrinkled his nose. "Humans smell terrible," he thought. He tip-toed through the house, hefting the half-empty bottle, ready to swing it into the man's head as soon as he saw him.
He spied the yellow hat on the kitchen table and turned. Wherever the hat was, the man was sure to be close by. As he got closer, he saw the man's lower body sticking from the oven. Too late, he realized what the bad smell was. He had just enough time to remember the lit cigarette before the explosion blasted it from his mouth.
-----
The cause of the explosion seemed obvious to the Fire Marshall, and the investigation was soon closed. Nobody ever noticed the charred and broken little monkey body in the rubble. Nobody but the crows.