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I like
monkeys.
The pet store was selling them
for 5c each. I thought
that was odd since they were
normally a couple thousand
dollars 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 of them 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
apartment.
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 sort of dropped
dead.
Kinda odd, 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 apartment.
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.
Then 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 or 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. |
