Monkey Justice








The phone rings in House of the Flying Martinis



Indy: Hello?



Meester (phoning home from work): Hello? Is that the police?



Indy: Yes.



Meeester: I want to report that my car has been damaged?



Indy: Do you want me to send the monkey?



Meeester: Yes, but how will I know it’s him? Does he wear a uniform?



Indy: No, but he sometimes likes to wear a bikini.



Meeester: Ok bye



Indy: Bye.



“So, Misssy Martin, when was the point that you knew your son was going to be a surreal esoteric performance artist?”



“The day I met his father”



*Sigh*

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September 9, 2008. fathers, kids, phonecalls, sons, surrealism. Leave a comment.

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