Just another weekend. The monkey and his ex-roommates meet up at around 12 saturday night, and general consensus was to perform the ritual. The past week had been excessively heavy on The monkey, way too heavy, too too too heavy. Heavy enough to allow a break of moral code and delve deep into … umm alcohol, mostly.

So what happened last week? Shit happens, and so it happened.

As always, The monkey’s brain was wandering. Work this week was a breeze, which gave him time to realize the emptiness of his life, the meaninglessness. Now, the monkey realizes this every time he joins The Mile High Club, but this time around, he wasnt even allowed backdoor entry to the club (He ran out of valium, finally),

But still , he was soul searching. Deep Soul Searching.

Deep Soul Searching, or DSS is a phenomenon unique to advanced primates, for the lower animals have better stuff to think about, like fight for survival. These advanced monkey descendents usually have too much time on their hands to actually bother about the meaning of existence, “Why am I here when I could be elsewhere”, and “If only I had a few lakh more, I would be sleeping with a beautiful girl.”

The monkey was deliberating these questions and more. He was wondering why exactly is his CFL a spiral, when that would mean an equal amount of light(energy) is wasted lighting the inside of the spiral. Back from work quite early in the evening and having no one to see and no where to go, he kept staring at the CFL and nothing came to light. So, in a fit of genius, he pulled his only chair, which has wheels without stoppers, and pulled it right underneath the CFL. He got up on the chair, shakily  and still shaking. His vibrating knees slowly helped him reach close enough to the very live CFL, and without thought, he extended his hand and pulled it out. Only, he managed to touch the slight metal exposed before actually getting the connectors out, and got a vibrant 220 V shock (Alternating). Thinking the only wise thing would be to drop the bloody CFL, he did so, generating the teeniest momentum, but big enough to set the stopperless wheels in motion. Like a snowboarder, he extended both his arms, and in the process directed the chair straight into the nearest wall. The collision wasnt earth shattering, but The monkey, in all his glory, managed to jump right before the collision and straight onto the broken glass pieces.

Was he wearing a pair of slippers? A pair of socks? No, Sir, he most definitely wasnt. He was climbing up a chair and didnt want his ass to get dirty if he ever decided to sit on it instead of using it as a clothes rack.

Did his feet bleed, you ask? Well, he is a monkey only metaphorically, so of course they did.

Did he die? Of course he didnt, else who would be writing this post? . A colleague from work somehow answered his call, and took him to the hospital eventually.

He was fixed in no time, but of course, he walked totally like a literal monkey the rest of last week.

So much for domestication and staying indoors. The monkey has now vowed to spend each evening drinking with strangers and encouraging a fist fight at the local bar which offers unlimited liquor at a very nominal price.


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