Midnight Zoo

In a twisted survival game set in a zoo, other players ran for their lives, terrified of breaking the rules.

Me? I was scratching a tiger’s chin.

“This coat is a mess. Too dull. Not enough protein in your diet. Let’s add another 20 pounds of beef to your meals.”

To the crazed monkey chasing players with an axe, I’d say:

“Hey, buddy, what’s with the mugging? You’re just feeding the stereotype. Be a good boy. Here’s a squeaky chicken. Now give the nice man/his axe back.”

And when I found a black bear about to scoop out someone’s brains, I smacked it right on the head.

“Look at you!” I’d scold. “You’re a walking case of fatty liver! We need to get you on a workout plan, pronto.”

Later, when the monsters of the zoo were interviewed and asked why they’d stopped hunting humans, they’d say:

“We weren’t on board at first, you know? But this woman… she just follows us around, feeding us constantly. What can we do? She just gives us so much good stuff.”

I’d snatch the microphone.

“I swear, it’s all part of a balanced, professional diet! They might look sleek and well–fed, but I assure you, they’re perfectly healthy!