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. 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 away but the garbage man said that the city was not 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.
