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The pet store was selling them for
five cents a piece. 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 the genitals.
I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped
laughing. I herded them into my room. They
didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would
screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and
slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle
lost its 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 sort of
dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies
five hours later. God 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 one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys. I tried to pretend 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 my toilet and I didn't
want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed. I tried to slow
down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there
was only enough room for two 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 go bad. I tried to burn
them, but 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 one
hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my
bed. The odor wasn't improving. I became
agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I
really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat
one of the 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.
He couldn't take it 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 quite
know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could
tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the
genitals. I like monkeys.
Last edited by azzit on Thu Jun 17 10:26:52 1999
Page No. 107
I Like Monkeys!
I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple
thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth so
I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.
Page No. 107
