monkeys and what about them.

i don't buy birthday presents for the western board of organs...never! Everybody knows how to...except everybody I know...which is a lie because in the earlier sentence i was proportionate. Balancing balls on a wire. monkeys could open boxes with spoons...on a long enough time line...everybody is a monkey except orangutans because they're apes...unfortunately many orangutans are unhappy...they want to have a name that has more letters of the alphabet in it than the word orangutan...because the word orangutan is demeaning...they don't even look like an orangutan...except that they're a bit orangeish...and that sort of fits with the name...but the "utan" part is just outrageous. they're going to have the government call them "orange people” from now on...ok...so we decided to live in cities and develop weird shit...orangutans (orange people) decided to lounge about in trees, eating and shitting till they die...and that makes them dumb? how? how does one survive in the wild anyway? French women must do well in wilderness. wells must've been a great need at one time. Time must've not been an issue at one point. Pointy objects are never perverted. Me. the following is not true but since it doesn't matter i'll carry on like it doesn't matter... i met this guy the other day...i had woken up on a bench in a park. i saw a pigeon...it was all bluey greyish...weird...so i got up...brushed my coat and walked up to this man by the trash can. He stared at me as i walked right up to him...old guy... i asked him what he thought about monkeys. Said he didn't give a shit about them...but he had eaten one once...long time ago...because he couldn't find his wallet and he was hungry. i suspected foreplay or foul play...depending on how you interpret gentle cupping and lies...so i thought of a new angle...i turned two steps to the left and asked him what he thought about monkeys...he said that he had crammed three in jam toast but never really listened hard enough to any of them...or whatever it was that they were singing on...he said he didn't mind because it was probably flat in D minor anyway. he finished talking and there was this faint but noticeable smell...of something...it wasn't pleasant. i asked the old man what he thought about monkeys...but my face was contorted...into a spiral...it wasn't interesting...he didn't seem surprised...a bit smiley though...sometimes you just can't tell if someone is smiling or if their face is just spiraling...either way one of us had their face in a spiral and there was this couple eating chocolate ice cream, making orgasmic noises...it was gross. The old man by the trash can who was now a green bird spoke in a foreign accent...he said that in his opinion flight was not a serious topic and that was unnerving. so unnerved was he that he thought of sailing rather than flying...except on holidays when it wasn't affordable. Luxury cruises are okay but going about floating in a dinghy till somebody rescued you out of sheer frustration was not his idea of a true democracy. i decided to ignore his obviously racist babbling and made it a point to step out of the bit of mud in their eye...i saw a baby getting his jaw developed at a breast feeding plant...the plant was not green...neither was the old bird standing in front of me...this old guy was turning left and right absolutely out of his mind confused about what to do...so i asked him...a bit in passing...just to break the ice...i asked him what he thought about monkeys. he stepped hard on the accelerator, floored it and the noise was insane...with a huge bang, the car just exploded from zero to 60 in two seconds and this guy turns to me...never mind the road he says...it's how you "pop in" that matters...if you make it on a zero to fifty in one and a half seconds...you're golden...because then you can let inertia carry you home...but if it's less than that...then you've got no choice but to start by handing over the whip and the keys to somebody else...or heck...they'll take it from you anyway. see, i wasn't really confused...my friend told me that he loved me because i would never get famous...which i thought was a bit presumptuous...if that really is your name...i said...i'm a fire cracker...see...how do fireworks work? large flashy displays of colour that can be seen from one end of town to another...meanwhile...i am a simple firecracker...a relatively small bang...and then “phut”...gone...a bit of smoke...maybe if i'm lucky...but honestly, if it means that much to you...i said...i'll plant a tree on your grave too. you could make it your symbol...trademark if you will...the old man was washing his hair in the sink by the trash can where on the bench sat a strange looking young guy...his face was spiraling...i didn't recognize him at first...i thought it might not go well to be too forward and educate him with good manners and pills but i figured that the old man was too smart and obviously up to no good...i made up my mind quickly...the shadows had only raced twice since i first set out with a set jaw, when i turned like a maniac towards the young guy and jumped on top of the bench. The snails on his forehead looked gross...it was obviously pretentious...pretending to be gross...that's just pretentious. i thought it was quite unwholesome...nobody should wear politically correct neckties...i mean that's just taking it a bit too far...so i asked the old man who lived in the wicker basket, what he thought about monkeys. he peeped out of the socket...one eye dangling like a funny dangling device. lice in his hair were perhaps twice his age but the rage in his mind was undeniably real. he was speaking in harsh whispers...talking about the time when he had had more hads than all the other "sell outs" on the planet but they had asked him to ship up or shave his self esteem with a blunt razor...i put my hand on the janitors broom and took the odd looking guy on his own bet considering all the pros and cons and knowledgeable hints from wise people i know, who remark often about goings on in the country as well as slow poisoning...i asked the old man what he thought about monkeys...and he said that most monkeys were clever enough to be apes if they just wore a bit more clothes sometimes...i countered his mutant behavior by letting go of all morality and stepping on his foot. i was not unavailable...i was just busy...mentally, physically, emotionally as well as counter clockwisely. so i took another short cut through the park...over the barbed wire fence and through the door marked, "this is not a door." I’m not sure who put that sign there...but it always cracks me up when I go that way...I stepped over the threshold and opened my eyes...there was something blueish grey type...flapping over my head...it was a pigeon...weird one at that...over to my left by the trash can stood this old man...i got up...brushed the dirt off my coat and balancing all the balls on this wire thing i stepped over to the old man...he was looking at me all queer like...i decided to run for it...i had obviously been found living in the past...reliving it over and over again...analyzing all the details that i put in according to my own will...i saw this green bird somewhere...pecking away at this guy...his eye was dangling out of its socket...it was quite amusing...and then through a door marked, "this door is closed at all times." i managed to get through to my friend in the end and he came over to my house. We were talking over peanuts when he closed his eyes and fell down. I brushed him under the carpet and kept him there for a couple of days...later on upon his insistence i took him to a doctor who recommended the morgue. Quickly we turned about foot, bickering on our way about the social implications of all that was going on about us, around us...these buses and caravans, strange methods of communication that had never been used like this before or after and most importantly...these people stealing everything we own under the name of freedom and equality. But it was nearly more than a decade over half a century too late. However little we tried to fail, we always managed it and as such were never quite sure about all these doors that did something we never claimed to have found or seen or decided or cared for. So i made up my mind...and walked through another door marked, "somedaylade."