The Saga of the small African Howler Monkey
Okay, so yeah. I was going to do this stupid myspace thing where each question starts a sentence and you're supposed to finish it. And I did, and lo, I was still bored. So I decided to just write really random and crazy stuff on each one, and after the first one, made the second continue off of it, and it evolved into something resembling a story. Judge for yourself. And no, for the record, I was not on any drugs when writing this. I'm just weird.
1. This one time, at sex camp... this chick with a totally hot but obviously prosthetic nostril came up to a small African Howler Monkey and said "Bitey bitey 15 dolla". The small African Howler Monkey was like "EHEHEHEHE OOH" (sAHM for Yes please, I'll take two). So the chick bit his left testicle off.
Moral of the story: Don't date chicks with serrated teeth, dipshits.
2. After returning from the clinic, Jack told Jill that... an enraged chick with a prosthetic nostril had bitten his left testicle off. Jill was touched, but since she was a Vietnamese Tapir with no vocal cords (hunting accident, and another story entirely) she wrote "I'm leaving you." with a purple permanant marker on a dry-erase board and threw him a $68 alimony check.
Moral of the story: If you get a testicle bitten off, don't tell your dearly beloved. Just tell her you did it because you thought it would be sexy.
3. If I had a pet ninja monkey I would... send it after my fucking ex-wife." exclaimed the African Howler Monkey. So, he went to the Dollar Tree, and they had a pack of 4 ninja monkeys for $1.09. After complaining to the manager, he purchased the ninja monkeys for $1.00 and set about opening the package. But he couldn't open it. Child-proof. So he went to the Dollar Store, the Dollar Tree's arch-nemesis, and bought a tiny Parasitic Moth for $1.00 even, and went and put it in the Dollar Tree manager's toilet bowl.
Moral of the Story: If you're a manager, don't fucking piss of the customers. They're always right, and they WILL get you fired. Or give you parasitic poop-larvae.
4. Most girls should just never... use the bathroom if a small African Howler Monkey has put a Parasitic Moth in the toilet bowl. Well, she did. And within 2 weeks, she had the worst case of diarrhea the town of Indianapolis had ever seen. I mean they had to set up a fucking foghorn warning system to go off every time she let the chocolate rain fall. Needless to say, the small African Howler Monkey was very pleased with his purchase, and wrote a letter to the reginol Manager of Dollar Store, telling him that he should win some sort of award for the quality of products his store carried.
Moral of the story: If you get diarrhea, please, PLEASE have the common courtesy to set up a foghorn warning system.
5. American Idol is... on, and the small African Howler Monkey is drunk again. Jill, his ex wife, has never left his mind, the anger has past, and all he wants is her back. So he comes up with a brilliant plan. Kidnap her child, and hold him for ransom until she agrees to get back together with him. The first part is easy, since he has custody of the child on the weekend, so he reaches over and grabs the baby by the neck, wondering again why the fuck their child happened to be a condor-tapir mutant, and if there was something that his wife hadn't told him. Anyway, he tosses the squawking mutant into the closet, and whips out his MacBook Pro to tell his wife. But damn it all, she's not on msn. Dejected, the Small African Howler Monkey opens another beer.
Moral of the story: If your wife is a tapir and your are a monkey, and she has a tapir-condor hybrid baby, call a marriage counselor. Seriously, it's for the best.
6. I would smother David Hasselhoff with... my vocal cords, if I had them." thinks Jill, the Vietnamese vocal-cordless tapir. "Fucker slept with me and left me for dead." She staggers to her feet and stares around her. She's in the Australian outhouse, behind the Australian Cafe, located in Austria. Since she doesn't speak a word of German, she calls out for help in english, and some asshole tips the outhouse over. She sputters in rage and falls out the front door, which has popped open. "Sorry...I have a outie-asshole," says a large Italian Immigrant, who helps her to her feet and wipes the crap off her. "It pops out sometimes, I can't help it." They look deep into each other's eyes. He shuffles his large feet, embarrassedly trying to stuff his asshole back into his pants. Suddenly...they know they were destined for each other.
Moral of the story: Never give up, your large Italian Immigrant with an outie-asshole could be just around the corner.
7. I read Playboy for the... excellent storytelling." says the small African Howler Monkey to his bridge partner, Bob. "I mean, those boobies speak my language." Bob agrees wholeheartedly, chugging a fifth of vodka and doing a line of what he thinks is cocaine off the table. The small African Howler Monkey wonders if he should tell Bob that he's actually insufflating Giant Peruvian Lima Beans, that have been powdered. He decides against it. Suddenly, his cell rings. "That ring tone...it couldn't be...but..." he thinks, as he expertly whips his phone out and watches it sail across the room into the pile of beer and vodka bottles stacked in the corner. As he gets up to retrieve it, he thinks again, "Not her...not..." But it is. Jill the Vietnamese vocal-cordless tapir is back in town, and she's pissed.
Moral of the story: For the love of god, nobody gives a shit about how you open your phone, please don't try to do it all fancy. It just makes you look like a retard when it flies into the vodka and beer bottles. And then you get up all red-faced and accidentally fall into the stack while trying to retrieve it, and cut your wrists on a broken bottle on the way down, and then everyone calls you emo, and you're even more sad. So just don't kids, please. Also, check your coke dealer out thoroughly, it could be Lima Beans. And that makes Barney the Purple Dinosaur crash.
8. We should take all of the people in Asia and... send them after my ex-husband!" says the Vietnamese vocal-cordless Tapir to the Prime Minister of Asia. He concurs fully, and orders his flunkies to round up all his people and start catapulting them to Indianapolis. "But...won't they just splat and make a big mess if you catapult them?" asks Jill. "No." says the Prime Minister in a serious and aloof tone. "Asians are small, so they bounce when they land. Much like boobies." Jill nods thoughtfully.
Moral of the Story: Do your research before you question the Prime Minister. She got off lucky this time, believe me.
9. Angelina Jolie should adopt... me because I'm on the run from my ex-wife.' The small African Howler Monkey looks down at the opening line of the essay he's writing for the Angelina Jolie Adoption Contest. The winner gets adopted by Angelina and taken to the magical land of Neo-Tokyo, where everything is neon and LED-lit, and the deviled eggs are truely amazing. He spends 2 hours finishing the letter, and finally looks out of the sewer grating. He sees a small contigent of asians, patroling the corner. Life has been hell since they started flying into Indianapolis, looking for him. The small African Howler Monkey has had to resort to eating lettuce and dirt, and Bob, who was drunk enough to go on the run with him, has started injecting vodka directly into his heart.
Moral of the story: Directly into his heart? WTF man, does Bob want to die? Don't fucking do this kids! If you're a consenting adult, please go ahead, only film it and send it to me, so I can laugh at what a dipshit you are. And if you're going to complain that this isn't really a moral, please, go find me some HuFu, and then we'll talk. It's not made anymore by the way, so good luck.
10. George Bush is smarter than... I am?" Thinks Dick Cheney as he looks at the result of the IQ test. "THIS ISN'T HUMANLY POSSIBLE!" screams Cheney as he starts to change. His arms elongate, and become furry tentacles, and his legs fall off. "Wow," he thinks. "I thought transforming would be sweeter than this. I can't walk anymore. Fuck." At that moment, Karl Rove comes into the room, and accidentally steps on Cheney's testicles, but also doesn't seem to care. So maybe it wasn't an accident. At any rate, he informs Cheney that bouncy asians are flooding Indianapolis looking for a small African Howler Monkey. Cheney orders in the marines, then proceeds to cry over his flattened nuts.
Moral of the Story: Don't transform without adult supervision. Also don't choke on small parts, but feel free to put a bag over your head. That's just funny.
11. The world would be much better when we get rid of all of the... bouncy invading asians." thinks the small African Howler Monkey. He is at the point of eating his own arm. Then he looks at Bob. Bob is a vegtable now, apparently that's what happens when you inject vodka directly into your testicles. The small African Howler Monkey has thought about eating him before, but has been worried that he would become too drunk and reveal his presence to the bouncy asians. But now he just doesn't care, and takes a big ol' bite. The world turns happy and blurry, and he stumbles out of the sewer and down the main street, singing about french poodles and urine. The asians close in...
Moral of the story: Even though life has gotten you down, getting drunk is not the answer. It sure is hella funny though, so feel free.
12. Jewish people are... insane!" cries an innocent bystander, as she watches the huge Rabbi with the Flowing Orange Beard decapitate another bouncy asian and thorw the head at the approaching crowd. Cheney's marines had arrived, and done their best to hold off the bouncy asians, but unfortunately the small African Howler Monkey had chosen that time to emerge, wasted nonetheless, and all the asian's inner guidance systems had locked on and converged on him. The marines were simply overwhelmed, and lasted mere seconds. But then the Rabbi with the Flowing Orange Beard had shown up, and was simply OWNING the bouncy asians left and right. The small African Howler Monkey had sobered up a tiny bit, enough to hide behind a traffic pole while the Rabbi was taking care of the invasion anyway, and he threw up just as the last bouncy asian was taken care of. As the last few chunks of Bob left the small African Howler Monkey's mouth and splatted on the pavement, a glorious sunrise emerged over the ruined city, spreading warmth into a city that had been cold for so long.
Moral of the story: The Rabbi with the Flowing Orange Beard is not going to eat you, so you can sleep comfortably tonight.
13. My computer needs... a reboot." complained Jill the Vietnamese vocal-cordless tapir to her boyfriend. The large Italian Immigrant with the outie-asshole emits a large belch, and smashes the computer with his large fist. "Rolf!" shrieks Jill, bursting into tears. "That was only iMac I had left! Now I only have iCan'ts left!" She shrieks once more, this time with laughter. The large Italian Immigrant with the outie-asshole looks stonily at her, and shakes his large head. "That was a god-awful joke, and I'm leaving you for it." Still shaking his large head with annoyance, he exits the room, by the left door, near the flowerpot. Jill stares at the floor, and reaches silently for the phone.
Moral of the story: Don't tell your boyfriend/girlfriend iAnything jokes. Because they will leave you. I know I would.
14. Pornography is for... mexicans and me!" sighs Jill the Vietnamese vocal-cordless tapir, as she watches the iMac screen the small African Howler Monkey bought her yesterday. She sighs, and puts her paw-leg-arm thingy around his shoulder and pops open a can of TAB. The small African Howler Monkey looks around at the apartment. It has been repainted, the bloodstains the bouncy asians left behind have all been cleaned up, and all of the dishes are done. There's food in the fridge, and porn on the computer. And he's reunited with his lovely wife. He takes a quick look out the window and gives a thumbs up sign. Far away, he can see the Rabbi with the Flowing Orange Beard give him a salute and wink, and take off for the sky. "What was that for?" asks Jill. "Nothing," the small African Howler Monkey responds, settling back against her. "Look, the mexicans are doing doggy style now!"
Moral of the story: THE END...or IS IT???
15. Hammer pants are so... 80s." thinks the condor-tapir hybrid as he carefully selects a hacksaw and spork off the weapons table. "I'm going to be wearing dockers when I spill your blood, you sons of bitches..." It had taken the condor-tapir hybrid 2 months to peck his way out of that closet, and that damned (yet still small) African Howler Monkey would pay. He would make sure of that...
Moral of the story: Aim for the stars, and you might accidentally hit a Rabbi with a Flowing Orange Beard while he's flying above you. So go aim somewhere else dipshit. Because we might need his help again.
