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Hey man. That’s not funny!

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 each. I bought 200. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one drive. He wasn’t very smart. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the stomach. I laughed. Then they punched me in the stomach. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new home. They would screech, hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, this lost its novelty afer an 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. Darn 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.
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