Subject: Monkeys

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Read aloud and in monotone. It's halarious!
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I like monkeys.


The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like monkeys.


I took my monkeys home. (I have a big car) I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarted. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.


I hearded 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 themselves into walls. 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 apparant 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 the 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 they were just stuffed animals. This worked for awhile, that is until they started 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 a plumber. I was embarased.


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 that it wouldn't all 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 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, and to use the toilet. I severely beat one of my 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 inside. He wouldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.


I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them away as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended that they liked them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates! I punched them in the genitals.


I like monkeys.


Moral: never buy cheap monkeys, right?
WRONG! Don't let a monkey named Sigmind punch you in the genitals!


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