Me: Hunter S. Thomson has hummus and a little baba ghanoush on his face and it's detracting from his gonzo image. Can you hand me some napkins?
Him: <sigh> <rustling sounds>
Me: I may need that helper monkey sooner than I thought.
Him: I wonder what the cats would think about living with a monkey.
Me: We could probably get two and write them off as medical expenses. You do have that nasty thumb arthritis. Then we could get tiny saddles for the cats and have races with monkey jockeys.
Did you know that Hunter S. Thompson once had a drunk monkey in his pocket?
Him: No, I wasn't aware of that particular fact.
Me: Yeah, he actually did. It threw up in there too. Poor Hunter now has to endure eternity smelling like monkey vomit, charred eggplant, feta cheese and pureed garbanzo beans.
No comments:
Post a Comment