But I
wish it was.
I think monkeys are the coolest animals, I would
love to have one as a pet. Unfortunately, my wife is vehemently anti-simian and
there’s pretty much nothing short of a Forensic Files episode that will get her
to change her mind. And don’t think I haven’t tried. I’ve used every argument I
could dream up.
B.
He could clean the rain gutters without worrying about
falling off the roof.
C.
Someone to eat all the brown bananas she says I
waste.
D.
With a squeezebox thingy and a sweet hat for my monkey I could make some
extra cash when I’m hanging out at the mall.
E.
They’re irresistibly cute
My wife says she’d rather
have a baby (ain’t gonna happen) than a monkey. Okay, let’s go with that for a
moment.
Babies wear diapers. So do
monkeys. You can dress a baby up as ridiculous as you want and they won’t
complain. Monkeys can’t talk so I’d say that’s a wash. Babies
are warm and cuddly, so are
monkeys. Babies require many doctor visits; vets are slightly cheaper. Babies
don’t shed, so there’s that. Babies throw food. Monkeys throw their po… okay,
the baby wins that one. But can a baby swing from the chandelier? I think not.
She finally suggested I get a
dog.
The thought of making a
friend out of something that frequently uses its tongue as a washcloth doesn’t
appeal to me in the slightest. I believe this is why Michael Jackson wisely
chose Bubbles over Fido.
Monkeys rule…dogs drool
K.G.
