In this article, a man had trained a monkey to scale up a tree and harvest coconuts for him. The man, whose name I want to pretend to be Bob because it's actually foreign and when I say it, it makes my tongue tingle, spent countless hours working with his simian cohort, whose name was Brother Kwan but we'll just call him Judas, for the purpose of foreshadowing, to maximize the number of coconuts he could harvest on any given day. There were many days when passersby would say "Say now! That Bob sure is diligent with that monkey. And I don't mean masturbating." Because we all know what "working the monkey" REALLY means so they would be sure to clarify. Day after day, Judas would scamper up the tree, honing his craft of coconut collection so that Bob could eek out his meager living. And then one day Judas threw a coconut at Bob's head and killed him for no reason other than Bob worked him tirelessly and beat him when he tried to take a break, and then that lazy, no-good, hateful monkey ran off into the jungle never to be seen again.
Bob was eaten by crabs.*
The Moral: Never trust a monkey because they will kill you with a coconut first chance they get. And I've lived my life by this standard and while you may find it difficult to remember, you have to, because otherwise it might be you one day on the business end of a coconut, and why do I feel like I should be writing something like "The Skipper and the Professor were walking to Ginger's hut..." when I write this story? And have you even seen Bob Denver lately?Gilligan be old as shit! Whoops! No, he's not. He's dead. Gilligan is dead**! I don't want to say a monkey with a coconut killed him because we don't have all the facts in, but it was definitely a monkey with a coconut and...
Hattori Hanzo: Stop. He died in 2005 of squamous cell carcinoma of the larynx. Not a monkey with a coconut.
Me: Squeamish Selled what?
Hattori Hanzo: SQUAMOUS cell carcinoma.
Me: You're making that up.
Hattori Hanzo: No I'm not.
Me: There's no such thing a squeamish-celled carcinoma. It was an effing monkey! Admit it!
Hattori Hanzo: (*sighs*) Okay. Fine. It was a monkey.
Me: I'm like Sherlock Holmes! Case closed!
Hattori Hanzo: You literally just lost your entire audience. Like... they're off polka-dancing or filing their nails or napping because of how fucked up you are.
Me: (*starts singing "We are the Champions"*)
Hattori Hanzo: This is seriously stupid.
Me: "...No time for LOSERS (*pointing at Hattori Hanzo*) cuz we are the chammppioonnssss"
Hattori Hanzo: I wish I had a coconut.
Me: Your Mom wishes she had a coconut!
Hattori Hanzo: WE HAVE THE SAME MOTHER BECAUSE I'M PRETEND, ASSHOLE!!!
Me: Sheesh. Talk about your grumpy monkeys.
*I added this part on my own, as sort of a wishful thinking-type thing.
**This is pretty much expert investigative journalism like they used to do on "20/20" before ratings went to hell and then every story turned into the one about the kids dying and/or being abducted and then dying. I learned my technique at Genius Detective School.