I LIKE MONKEYS
The pet store
was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since
they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a
gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.
I took my 200
monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was
Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright.
They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then
they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them
into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment.
They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds
and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle
lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours
later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all
died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda'
like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn
cheap monkeys.
I didn't know
what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on
the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I
had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to
flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had
one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried
pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a
while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell
real bad.
I had to pee
but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call
the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to
slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there
was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change
them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the
freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried
burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to
extinguish the fire.
Then I had one
dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my
freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The
odor wasn't improving.
I became
agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the
bathroom. I severely beat one of my monkeys. I felt
better.
I tried
throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't
allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet
one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about
the frozen ones.
I finally
arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My
friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they
like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched
them in the genitals.
I like
monkeys