DARK HUMOR
Photo Prompts: What the Monkeys Were Up To
Channeling inappropriate simian friends
“Every picture tells a story, don’t it?” — Rod Stewart
Disclaimer: If you’ve recently suffered a brain injury, have run out of psychosis medication, or are adamantly committed to clinging to the guardrails of normal, skip this one.
My weirdo human wrote a silly story about primate philosophy based on Smillew Rahcuef’s story about Koko’s final message to humanity.
Koko the Gorilla lived in a zoo with so many handlers she didn’t know what to do. They thought they were clever and made her sign forever, so she reacted by throwing her poo.
Patricia Jeanne can be half clever, but she finds pushing the envelope too far distasteful.
The envelope should be shredded and the letter posted with highlighted sections of Disturbing.
Patricia’s daughter caught a glimpse of the monkeys. Her reaction:
- She laughed. “That’s awesome, you’re a genius.”
- She shrieked. “That’s fucked.”
- She looked worried. “I want to ask how many people you’ve permanently scarred psychologically. Don’t ever let Grandma see this or she’ll have you committed.”
Then she suggested a photo improvement even I won’t do. Trees shouldn’t be able to breastfeed. The kid’s not bad for one-eighth hissing serpent.
They’ve had some trauma and think they’re entitled to absurd dark humor.
I found some of Profound Buddhist Billy’s photos.
Been there, done that. Mixing hallucinogens with Viagra, alcohol, and the Grateful Dead rarely ends well.
Most of Billy’s pictures were all about “finding himself.”
My brother Al Bino is on Billy’s head. The kid thought the Wicked Witch of the West went with monkeys.
Our simian show-off has another friend.
Alex has been having cognitive trouble. Faulty memory, a short attention span, and conforming to one gender are symptoms of brain trauma or being a teenager. Apparently, he was thinking of my brother Cabbage.
Patricia Jeanne says stupid stuff like, “It’s natural for humans to devolve into inappropriate, dark humor when faced with extreme stress.”
I argue, “You call this creative writing? Take off the amygdala cuffs.”
It turns out Billy’s been playing us. He’s no monk.
We compromised when I agreed to leave the bra off.
There’s more, but I have to finish my new soundtrack for the opening scenes of the horror flick “Nun.” Abba’s “Dancing Queen” will play as Robin Williams, Kat Williams, and the Williams Sisters trade clever barbs while the nuns scream, crosses flip and burn, and blood pours.
Tickets go on sale Friday, just in time for the holidays.
And people think I’m dark.
Thanks for reading.
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