Let's say you have a monkey. A batshit crazy one, but he's your pet and you love him. Then one day he disappears and you receive a letter informing you that he's been kidnapped. You'd probably assume it was true and try everything you could to get him back, right?
Well, not if the monkey in question was Tucksworth.
I was suspicious from the first when I got that ransom note. For one thing, it was written in fingerpaint on the back of my electric bill. Also, it was smeared with Cheetos dust and grape jelly, two of Tucksworth's favorite snacks. In fact he enjoys eating them together. The only other person I know who likes that kind of gross combination of foods is Britinia. I wondered briefly if she might have had something to do with his disappearance but she denied it, and I realized she was too dumb to plot anything as complicated as a kidnapping. Sheesh, she can't even manage to get a decent weave!
And then there was the picture that had been stapled to the note. Remember the one, of the monkey getting electrocuted? It didn't really look like Tucksworth, but I was so horrified I didn't question it. Upon further examination I realized it had been cut out of Stop Vivisection Now! pamphlet. I'd been duped. That rotten little ape hadn't been snatched at all! He just felt like running off. The whole kidnapping thing was a scheme to get me to send him more Adderall. I guess he really developed a taste for it after downing my prescription that day he freaked out. I was pissed off that he'd pull something like this, but not really surprised. Tucksworth loves drama almost as much as he loves Cuervo Gold and fine Columbian.
Alert reader Helen let me know what was going on after she spotted him in this Taco John commercial. Thanks Helen!
Look at him ride that dog!
I didn't think I'd be seeing Tucksworth again now that he's famous and all, but he crept home late last night full of remorse and begged me to forgive him. He looked really tired and his fur was all straggly. All the money he made from his acting job is gone. Lord knows what he spent it on. My mom didn't want him back. She hates his mess and thinks he's too much trouble. He IS too much trouble and a spoiled rotten brat besides, but it's hard to resist those sad, pleading, monkey eyes.
This morning I woke up to find the cats tails tied together and my mother furiously scrubbing cream cheese and peanut butter off of the TV screen. I guess I'd better have a talk with him at some point. I'm too exhausted to do it right now, though. The new managers of The Boobie Barn installed a mechanical bull and they are making every dancer learn how to ride it so we can participate in Buck Naked Bullriding Fridays. I'm not very good at that sort of stuff. I can't seem to stay on for more than three seconds. Plus it gives me motion sickness.
I scrawled this poem in the employee rest room last night.
The thing about Buck Naked Bullriding
is that it makes you bruise your shins and throw up your tacos.
Other than that it sucks.