03/12   I like Monkeys

        The pet store was selling them for five cents a pieace.  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.

        I took my 200 monkeys home.  I have a big car.  I let one of 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 awhile, 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.