I like Monkeys

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. 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 its 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...