Tollbooth Willie
The Freeman
- Joined
- Jul 27, 2005
- Messages
- 17,553
- Reaction score
- 830
You go to a zoo. You have a pack of cigs in your back pocket. You expect monkeys. Orangutans specifically. One single orangutan specifically.
One that could pack away smokes like they weren't jack f*cking shit. But then one day you step into the zoo and feel like something is wrong. Something very wrong. Do you know how that feels? Returning to the zoo a few years later to see your old friend the cigarette smoking orangutan, only for him to be gone? It hurts.
It really really hurts. My friend tried to comfort me. She said "You can always get the other monkeys addicted." I looked at her and said "No. You don't get it."
You don't just get monkeys addicted. It's not some simple process. You don't just throw a smoke in and expect them to throw on a pair of shades and puff puff on that son of a bitch while butt f*cking all the monkey females. It takes a special kind of monkey. A god among monkeys.
I spent the rest of my day looking at the herpes infested monkeys next to the rhinoceros enclosure. As I gazed into their swollen growth covered assholes I reminisced the days where my cousins would light a smoke up and hand them to the orangutan when others weren't looking. He was a badass just puffing away.
But now...now he's...I don't know. Maybe dead. Maybe moved. Who knows? I decided to smoke the entire pack while I was at the zoo in his memory, but then I realized I wasn't a queer and threw them into the garbage. Today I walked away broken. Defeated.
F*ck you, Zoo. I hope you're happy.
One that could pack away smokes like they weren't jack f*cking shit. But then one day you step into the zoo and feel like something is wrong. Something very wrong. Do you know how that feels? Returning to the zoo a few years later to see your old friend the cigarette smoking orangutan, only for him to be gone? It hurts.
It really really hurts. My friend tried to comfort me. She said "You can always get the other monkeys addicted." I looked at her and said "No. You don't get it."
You don't just get monkeys addicted. It's not some simple process. You don't just throw a smoke in and expect them to throw on a pair of shades and puff puff on that son of a bitch while butt f*cking all the monkey females. It takes a special kind of monkey. A god among monkeys.
I spent the rest of my day looking at the herpes infested monkeys next to the rhinoceros enclosure. As I gazed into their swollen growth covered assholes I reminisced the days where my cousins would light a smoke up and hand them to the orangutan when others weren't looking. He was a badass just puffing away.
But now...now he's...I don't know. Maybe dead. Maybe moved. Who knows? I decided to smoke the entire pack while I was at the zoo in his memory, but then I realized I wasn't a queer and threw them into the garbage. Today I walked away broken. Defeated.
F*ck you, Zoo. I hope you're happy.