She sat with her back against the blood soaked

She sat with her back against the blood soaked walls and stared at the shadow in front of her. She wasn't afraid, she made him do this. After all what is a mutant monkey without

a brilliant but deranged and psychopathic scientist hellbent on world domination controlling it? Her experiment thus far was a success. Next, she'd direct the mutant monkey to fill

a bottomless bag of beans. But before that, she needed to submit her research to a peer-reviewed journal of high repute. Entitled 'Many a mickle makes a muckle: mutant monkeys and

monotheism.' The premise of her research thesis was simple, yet profound -- that as monkeys mutated, their need for many mickles (aka "gods") subsided. Her research was published

in The Monkeytheist, a publication of an anonymous group in San Francisco. As it turned out, the paper received mixed reviews. A theologian named Jokey said the research was fixed.

A smurf named Jokey wanted to know how many San Franciscans it takes to screw in a light bulb.

His bluish brother Pokey said slowly, "Well. That's a deep subject. I guess it depends on how many burnouts you have." While that wasn't the answer Jokey was expecting, it tickled

his funny bone. He giggled himself to sleep. But in the middle of the night, he woke up with a start. Burnout? What did Pokey mean? Suddenly Jokey began to question his whole

reason for Catfishing to begin with. As Jokey, he never had a single date...but as Gumby...well...the women were whores, putting out on the spot. Did Pokey know that Jokey was a

Was a loner? A nobody. No probably not. But never the less that was who jokey was and pokey would just have to accept it. He would never learn of his alternate identity. Never.