22
Mar

I Like Monkeys

The pet store was selling them for $5 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 didnt 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 sort of dropped dead. Kind of like when
you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap monkeys.

I didnt 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 didnt 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 didnt 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 didnt 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 wasnt
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 wasnt allowed
to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldnt
take that one either. I didnt bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends
didnt 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.

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