My Monkey Holds a Barber Razor

I was talking to my pet monkey

the other day

and he told me

I needed to get out of this junky

place and buy something nice

and turnkey so I’d have more time to

play…

I pet my kitty and the monkey turned

to me and looked at my cat

and shook his head

and I said,

‘what’?

he replied,

‘oh, nothing, I thought I saw

a zookeeper’.

‘so what’, I said.

‘you know I’m not really your monkey’.

‘oh, I know’.

‘don’t you know I escaped from the criminally

insane monkey zoo’?

things were getting creepier…

‘no, what did you do to get locked up’?

‘I was a monkey slasher’!

‘really’?

I felt I was safe because I wasn’t a monkey. but, I still had my doubts. So, I just had to ask…

‘I’m safe, right, Mr. Monkey’?

‘sure you are, friend’,

as he took out his barber razor and took a long look

at my kitty curled up on my lap.

 

 

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