In the unfortunate aftermath of the super monkey shenanigans, I retreated into my shell. No one enjoyed monkey overlords, even less so their creator. I locked the doors, bolted the windows, climbed down into my cellar-cum-bunker and watched daytime television.
The real issue came when the super monkeys took over the chat shows. They were rubbish. Who wanted to know why one neighbour wouldn’t share his bananas with another? Not I.
I made my mind up to fight back. No more mister nice guy.
My cellar rang with the hammer blows of creation. It took weeks to create the super sloths. They were my shining, scientific moment, my epitaph. They would unleash righteous vengeance on those damn monkeys and I’d be there to take the plaudits.
I would’ve, if it hadn’t taken them three months to climb up the stairs!