Why Rita Hates Monkeys by Shelley Dayton

Three friends’ vacation from hell staggers through a jungle well seasoned with adventure, intrigue and humor.

When the ladies of Short Mountain Mortgage clock out, chaos clocks in. Why Rita Hates Monkeys follows Vicky, Rita, and Lynette as their vacation in a Mexican rainforest goes horribly wrong. The aggressive bats are frightening and nobody can identify the dinner meat, but the trip becomes a real adventure when a monkey flings a hand at them. Their guide Elsa asks them to find the hand’s owner.

Their options are to help, or a local tribe will have them for dinner. And then later for a midnight snack.

Lynette shrugged. She hadn’t moved. But something else had, way up in the canopy. Something with rotten fruit, a good throwing arm, and lots of like-minded friends.

Suddenly the greenery around us danced and shuddered beneath a solid rain of heavy, stinking fruit. Something foul smacked into the side of my head. The screaming started up once again.

“This way!” screamed Elsa. “We are very close to camp!” We followed her short, pumping legs, pummeled with every step. Something exploded on my chest, splattering liquid on my chin. The monkeys followed us with ease. They hooted and screeched like soccer hooligans.

The covered porch popped into sight. It was Rita this time who tripped and fell, her leg entwined in…well, twine.

“Leave her! We’ll go back for her corpse later! Hahahaha!” screamed Lynette, a far better loser than winner. She sped by me and pounded to a stop on the covered porch. Elsa was there too, hunched over and pinching her side.

Several feet behind us, Rita sat up in a clearing and pulled at the thick vine. A troop of a dozen black-and-white monkeys swarmed to the front of the trees, lobbing with accuracy and enthusiasm. Rita wore a complete cap of rotten, yellow fruit, and her denim shirt was drenched in juice. Her voice was hoarse from screaming.