Monkeys. As a Floridian I can't begin to tell you the number of nights I've laid awake worrying about monkey hordes overrunning my fair State. We already have pythons, kudzus, and snowbirds; we don't need to add felonious little primates to the mix.
I had planned on spending my Golden Years sitting on my porch sipping on mint julips, but increasingly I fear it will end up being a desperate defense of my homestead against vociferous monkey flocks. Racoons are bad enough, but these creatures with their little primate fingers and black hearts will terrorize any neighborhood they visit.
Why, oh why, do my retirement years have a simian Sword of Damocles hanging over them?
