The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that
as 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 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 it's 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 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 thirty 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 the 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 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 liked them but I could tell that they were lying.
Ingrates. So I punched them in their genitals.
I like monkeys.