From:	ManikGrl
 
 
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 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
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 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 30 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 my
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 was not 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 like them, but I could tell
they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the
genitals.
 
I like monkeys.
 
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