The pet store
was selling them for five cents a piece
I thought this was odd
since they were normally
thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth
so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one
of them drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In
fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching
themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in
the genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well
to their new environment. They would screech and hurl
themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the
wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its
novelty halfway into it's third hour. Two hours later I
found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they
all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of
dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it
dies five hours later. God 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
one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.
I tried to pretend 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 my toilet and I didn't want to
call a plumber. I was embarrassed. I tried to slow down
the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there
was only enough room for two 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 go bad.
I tried to burn them, but little did I know that 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 one hundred ninety-seven dead,
charred monkeys in a pile on my bed.
The odor wasn't improving. I became agitated at my
inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had
to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of
the monkeys. I felt better.
I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the
city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I
told him I had a wet one. He couldn't take it 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 quite know what to
say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they
were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.
-- Anonymous (not by me)