If I only had a monkey
Chapter 1. Monkey Time!
Have you ever wanted a monkey? If not, then why are you such a jerk?
This is the story of how I wanted a monkey and how, through the magic of imagination enhanced by the keen powers of assumption, I managed to piece together the impact having a monkey would have on my boring day at work.
In putting this postulate together I first constructed a series of basic assumptions to work with:
1: Monkeys are, indeed, Awesome.
2. My monkey would be named monkey.
3. Monkeys are secretly hyper-intelligent and have uncovered the secret of time travel. (This may seem like a bit of a stretch to some. To them I say: Prove me wrong jerks!)
4. Monkey and I would later start a bad-ass super-band (Our band would totally become super popular on account of our badass beats and melodies. While on tour, we would totally have wacky adventures and solve crazy mysteries. Monkey would inevitably develop a smack addiction and have to be talked down from a moderately tall building while high. Monkey would go to rehab but not be able to put his life back together. Early one Easter morning, he would hang himself; probably in his living room. His body would be found three days later by one of his many wives.)
The story would go something like this:
One day I had been sitting around by my desk, minding my own damn business, when all of a sudden and time portal materialized next to me. Not at all shocked by this, I lounged lazily in my chair and waited for the time traveling jerk to stop showing off. Finally the loser stepped out from the time distortion. He was wearing something that looked like those old-timey diving suits only it was really small; child-sized. The Time distortion snapped out of existence and the traveler began to undo his hilarious helmet.
Still not impressed, I kicked my feet up, sipped some extra fancy coffee (From the coffee pot downstairs: Coffee for a quarter? Yes please!) and thought about how much cooler it would be if I were time traveling.
“Who time travels in a stupid diving suit anyway,” I mused condescendingly. “Only jerks do that. I’d totally time travel on a magical hover board while jamming out on a magical time traveling guitar named Hammer Time. I’d do it with, you know, some class and style.”
“Oh would you now?” intoned a voice from under the helmet with a bit of a muffled chuckle. The voice sounded British in its accent; not the gay British accent but rather the educated fancy sort. “We’ll see about that loser! Behold!” cried out the voice, no longer muffled.
“Holy Crap!” I exclaimed as the traveler’s helmet fell to the ground, “You’re a monkey!”
“Not just any monkey, chum. I’m your monkey FROM THE FRIGGING FUTURE!!!!”
The future monkey offered up a high-five.
“I knew it,” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and slapped him some skin, “I just knew that someday I’d get a monkey! Oh the cleverness of me!!! In your face everyone else who isn’t me! HA! Look at me!! I’m better that everyone else!! IT’S GOING STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”
At this point, monkey calmly uppercutted me in the balls.
“No time for that, sir,” consoled Monkey, “Things are happening in the future or something. You should totally come with me or, you know, whatever.”
“Ugghh… O.K...,” I moaned clutching my balls. (I assume being uppercutted in the balls hurts, like, crazy bad. With that in mind, I assume I would probably swear vendetta against monkey or something like that. As soon as I got my chance, I’d probably get that ball punching bastard back.)
Monkey helped me to my feet.
“Ok now, let me adjust this sensitive piece of time-travel-machine-technology which, I should note, is very sensitive and difficult to calibrate; actually, this is the most dangerous part of time travel since even the slightest miss-setting could have disastrous effects on our trip,” warned monkey.
“JUMANJI!!!” I screamed as I: dove through the air, punched monkey in the balls, messed up his time travel calculations, activated the time travel device and knocked us through the resulting time distortion (All while mid-air! Neat!)
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When I came to we were in an unusual jungle…
Unusual in that it was full of dinosaurs on rocket-skateboards that were fighting cyborg-dinosaurs on rocket-horses!
We had traveled to the past, suckers!
“Holy crap, Dinosaurs.” I said flatly, not impressed at all as a T-Rex with a bad-ass bandana totally jump-kicked a cyborg-triceratops in the face and then wailed on the electrical guitar.
Monkey just stood there, rubbing his arms compulsively.
“Uhm… monkey?” I asked, “Are you… were you already addicted to smack when you time traveled to pick me up?”
“YES!” screamed monkey at the top of his lungs as he went into a smack-withdraw-induced frenzy.
“Awww crap,” I said with a sigh. “Sigh…”
Here I was: trapped in the past with a smack addicted monkey as my only companion/band mate. I was surrounded by some totally sweet Dinosaur rocking/fighting/cyborg action (The far-flung past is totally awesome. Deal with it Science.): I should have been having the time of my life, but I wasn’t.
“Monkey, this is super lame. Let’s go home.”
“Plagadfdsghsds!!!!!” responded monkey.
As I looked around at all the pointless dino-carnage and the stupid-vaguely-80’s-future-post-apocalyptic stylings I realized how stupid the past really was and learned an important life lesson: History is boring and pointless and has no bearing on the present or the future. I picked up monkey and kicked him in the balls one more time. I then reached over and picked up the time travel thingy and pressed the big blue button. As the time distortion stuff started to happen, I saw a giant asteroid falling from the sky.
“Oh thank god, its about damn time.” I thought. At the last second though, just as I was beginning to time travel, I saw the asteroid morph into a giant robot and strafe the dinosaurs who, putting their dino-problems aside, teamed up to take on the retarded asteroid robot.
“Oh for Christ’s sake.”
My lasts thoughts blurred as I was mercifully thrown back toward my proper time.
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When I arrived, I went to the restroom. When I returned from the restroom, Monkey had hung himself from the ceiling fan with a belt he happened to have. Balls.
The only conclusion that I can assume, based on these other assumptions, is that monkeys are indeed awesome but better left in their natural environments: zoos, science labs and outer-space.
