Thursday, June 15, 2006

LIKE MONKEYS

The pet store was selling them for five cents apiece.
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 awhile, 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. It felt better.

I tried throwing them away 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 liked them but I could
tell they were lying. Ingrates! So I punched them in
the genitals.

I like monkeys.

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