I Like Monkeys

Rated PG (but highly twisted)

The pet store was selling monkeys for five cents each. I thought this was odd since they normally sold for a couple thousand dollars each. Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys. I took my 200 monkeys home with me. I have a big car. I let one of the monkeys drive the car. His name was Sigmund. Sigmund was retarded. In fact, really, none of them were very bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.

Once we were home I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the walls. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all of the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. And for no apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it floats to the top of the bowl 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 matted 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 bagan to decompose. It started to smell really 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. Unfortunately there was only enough room in the freezer for two at a time, so I had to swap them out every 30 seconds. I also had to hurry up and eat all of the food that had been 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 blaze.

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. I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. It made me feel a little 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 that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I wrapped them up really pretty with a bow and gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite 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.

Back to The Jokes Index Page.

LinkExchange Member

Gary Churchman

garydebc@silcom.com

This website designed and maintained by
Copyright © 1998, Gary Churchman