hi

hi

"Holy S--! There's been a computer malfunction!" I bellowed knowing that if we lost the intel Russia was going to box up our limbs separately and feed us to the sharks. "What the

monkey isn't even doing his job properly," I complain. What was climbing the rafters before hanging down from his tail on the detonate switch. "NONONO," I cry. Russia called in

its favors just then, and the detonator switch did nothing. The monkey donned a Roman helmet and said "Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!"

The absence of a kaboom was so strong, it materialized into a physical mass of sadness and disappointment and sucked in the monkey.

Trapped in the kaboomless void, the monkey didn't know who, what, when, why, or how he was. All he knew was that there were no bananas. Maybe he could escape if

...no, his mind wandered back to bananas. That's the way it is when you're a monkey. The poor primate gaped into the nothingness that surrounded him, the sweet fruit of freedom

ensconcing his lack of brainpower. How terrible it is to have the strength of 50 men and the intellect of an amoeba. He loved the Chiquita banana lady. He loved the way she

danced, hawking bananas. He was so infatuated that nobody could tell him the Chiquita banana lady was just a 3rd-rate Carmen Miranda. Hell, nobody even knew who Carmen Miranda was.