Damn cheap monkeys!
I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents
apiece. I thought this rather odd since they were usually a
couple thousand dollars apiece. 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 very bright. They kept punching themselves in the
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 the
couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous
at first, the spectacle lost it's novelty halfway into the thir
d hour.
Two hours later I found out why the monkeys were so inexpensive
- they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta just
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 my 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 to pretend they were stuffed animals. That worked for a
while; that is, until they began to decompose. It started to
smell really bad.
I had to pee, but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I did
not want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow 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 would not go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know that my bed was
flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet monkey, two dead, frozen monkeys, and
197 dead charred monkeys. The odor was not improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and
to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt
better.
I tried throwing them away, but the garbage man said the city
wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had
a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I did not bother
asking him 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
to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates! So I
punched them in the genitals.
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