This is the part of the blog where I write about my day for those interested.
The monkey cages mysteriously burned down last night.
The police took me in for questioning. I gave them the usual answers:
“I was fast asleep.”
“I honestly don’t know how a steel cage could burn down either.”
“No, I love all simians.”
“I don’t even know what a blog is. It must be some other Frank J.”
“I’ll give you my gun if you give me yours.”
After three hours of this, they let me go. They had nothing.
I thought I had gotten away scot-free, but there, waiting outside my home, was Aquaman.
“Well, hello, Mr. Curry.” I placed my hand in my pocket for the reassuring touch of my gun. “Justice League not keeping you busy?”
Aquaman had seen better days; from the looks of him, he still hadn’t mentally recovered from the incident at Tuscon. He was five days overdue for a shave and two months behind on his haircut. Instead of his usual orange and green, he was in street clothes — a leather jacket and jeans. There was nothing to him that suggested he was the former king of Atlantis other than eyes that portrayed a sharp intellect. “You say you were sleeping when the fire broke out, but the fish in the penguin sanctuary tell a different story.”
I forced a laugh. “Why don’t you give me a call when the courts start accepting the testimony of tuna, then.” I walked past him into my house and slammed the door behind me. No matter what I did, Aquaman was always there trying to ruin things for me.
The operative word is “trying.”
Note to Self: Next time, poison any nearby fish.
Or…you could just walk over to the sanctuary munching on a MickeyD’s Fillet O’Fish and say, “Mighty nice tank you got here, be a shame if somethin’ were to happen to it.”
You should refer them to Rosie O’Donnell. I believe she has some theories on the subject.
Ah, good job taking out the ninja monkeys’ cover. But now you need to protect yourself against single, random attacks.
So AquaMan shows up AFTER you get back from the Pokey? I’m sure he was there to lend some moral support and was curious to know if you had any lessons from Bubba that you might pass on…
I, too, Frank, am a simian basher, simianphobe. I barely tolerate humans. Let us rise against the impending invasion. I mean, sweet Moses, we’re ACTUALLY importing monkeys and apes into the U.S! The only reason we don’t see Bigfoot around is because we (humans) were victorious against the sasquatch uprising! :-p
For your information, someone was “inspired” by one of your IMWs:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuE621j50Z0
I don’t know what’s more disturbing…the thought of free-range monkeys in your back-yard or having Aquaman stalk you. I’m thinking it’s a good thing you didn’t drop your keys…not that there’s anything wrong with that…
You should have asked Aquaman if he had tried out his new violet and pink costume yet.
Up until this post I thought Frank was a man. Now I am not so sure. Trading your gun for the cop’s gun? The guns you show with the t-shirt chic are all manly guns. Around here the cops carry 9mm pea-shooters. Might be good for varmints at close range, but really pretty low powered. Or, maybe the cops in your area carry .357s or .45s. Please clarify the gun trading situation so I can sleep at night.