Also there were cavemen, because there's just not many covers with monkeys AND spaceships on them, okay?
You can hear the ship coming closer, eventually even landing outside, but you are helpless. You and the monkeys merely hold one other, taking what little solace you can in their company, and wait for the end.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â A monstrosity stands at the entrance to the cave: The backlit sillouhette of a man, interspersed randomly with mechanical lines. Its voice is tinny and abstract.
âGet away from those beasts â theyâll tear you apart!â
âNo!â You protest, âtheyâre my friends! They saved me!â
âLook,â the man-thing says, sweeping his weapon back and forth over the assembled primates, âhave you been living under a rock or something? Weâre at war here, son! The entire natural world versus humanity. No exceptions. Either youâre with them, or youâre with us.â
You see the man distinctly now: His left half is almost entirely metallic. Cruel weapons, blades, and various â almost certainly deadly â tubes are lashed to every inch of him. He is scarred, vicious and cruel. The monkeys hold you tighter.
If you turn and reluctantly leave with the man to be with your own kind, turn to page 8.
If you stop to consider the plight of the monkeys as best you can, harnessing all of your empathy in exchange for the kindness they have shown you, turn to page 8.
âWell, hell yes!â You answer, slapping the comforting paws aside and striding towards the man. You seize his raygun, turn on the darkness of the cave, and spray it down with white hot laser.
"This Friendship has sailed, you empathizing monkey bastards!"
âJesus,â the man-thing protests, âI mean â yeah, theyâre not on our side. But we donât reallyâ¦.we don't burn
âListen man, are you seriously gonna go all future-pussy on me here, or are we gonna jump in your ship, fire up the photon machineguns, blast some metal, and light some flea-bitten motherfuckers on fire?â
âIâ¦I guess we can go,â He seems very uncertain about you all of a sudden. You make a note to report him as an animal-sympathizer to whatever Orwellian council you assume runs this world as soon as you get back to civilization. Can't have any fur-lovers in
You wait impatiently, jabbing at random buttons and making explosion noises with your mouth, as the man makes preparations for take-off. Suddenly, you spy something out the window and sprint back down the stairs.
âHold up a sec,â you motion for the man to wait, âIâve got to take care of something real quick.â
You emerge from the belly of the shining steel vessel, shield your eyes against the burning sun, and center your aim at the treetops. Youâre pretty sure you saw a parrot up there with a disapproving look in his eye, and youâre not about to take that shit from some Featherhead â which youâre assuming is the racist slur for birds in the future. If not, it certainly should be. You make up your mind to start slipping it into casual conversation.
"No, we'll join the planetary war in a second - this fuckin' bird thinks he's better than me!"
You steady yourself to fire, but something is groping at your leg! You look down to find youâve tangled your foot into some vines. Or rather, the vines have tangled around you â as you see now theyâre moving independently, tightening their grip. Another ropy lash seizes your arm, causing you to drop your firearm. Suddenly, you are being engulfed by the plants.