–I’m the king of the world.
–I was just going to say that.
–(Laughs.)
–(Laughs.)
–We rule everything we see.
–And with these giant teeth, we can eat anything we want.
–I’m not even hungry, but I’m going to eat that Triceratops over there anyway.
–I had two for breakfast just because I can.
–We are unstoppable.
–Totally.
–Hey, what’s the fiery ball in the sky flying towards us?
–I don’t know. But when it lands, I’m going to eat it.
–Not if I eat it first.
–(Laughs.)
–(Laughs.)
-Hey, Sir Runs-A-Lot, you ready for the big race today?
-You know it. I’m going off at 3-1 odds. You?
-I’m a long shot. Something like 18-1.
-Oh, sorry.
-No, it’s ok. I’m just coming off major hoof surgery. I’m just happy to be in the field.
-Think you’ll be able to handle the soft dirt track?
-Oh yeah. I’ve got these new titanium shoes with this special therapeutic insert. They’re super comfy and really supportive. But, to be honest, I’m not too concerned about my racing career anymore.
-Why’s that?
-I’m thinking about retiring soon and going to stud.
-Aren’t you a little young for that? And, no offense, you haven’t exactly won anything big in your time.
-So.
-I’m just saying. Usually they only breed champions.
-Yeah, well, they don’t call me Master Piece for nothing.
-I’ve heard. In fact, I think everyone’s heard, and seen that thing.
-That’s what I’m talking about.
-Look, I’m sorry. Good for you. I’m glad you’re getting out of this racket with something to look forward and not getting put down like Four Left Hooves.
-Thanks. That means a lot to me.
-So, where are you going to stud? Farpoint Farm? Nantcol? Krysum?
-No, they’re sending me to this new place called The Glue Factory.
-What?
-Yeah, I thought you’d be impressed.
-Hey, how’s it going? I’m Seymour Von Bueller.
-Ruprecht. Ruprecht Bigglesworth. Nice to meet you.
-Likewise.
-So Seymour, what do you do? I mean when you’re not a test monkey.
-I live at the zoo, so I mainly swing around on stuff and pose for pictures. Sometimes, just for shits and giggles, I throw my feces at people. You?
-Well, technically I’m a helper monkey. I was trained to assist the less fortunate, you know like disabled or retarded people. But these rich fucks bought me on a whim because I’m “entertaining”.
-Meaning?
-Meaning I swing from the chandelier, break expensive things and poop in their shoes.
-So it’s like you’re in a rich zoo only it’s not oppressive.
-Uh, I guess.
-No, that’s pretty much it.
-…
-So, what are we doing here anyway? They usually only take me out for kids parties and beastiality movie shoots.
-You don’t know? Those rich asshats and their friends have this theory that if they put a few monkeys in a room with a typewriter, we’ll eventually re-produce one of Shakespeare’s plays.
-Who the fuck is Shakespeare?
-I know. Just because they’re evolved, toilet trained, walk upright, aren’t covered in hair, and don’t eat ticks off each other they think they can play games with our lives. It’s not… wait, you don’t know who Shakespeare is?
-I was born and raised in a zoo remember. I’ve seen a few Playboys, but I don’t exactly have a library card.
-He’s only the greatest writer of all time.
-Well excuse me for not being a helper monkey.
-Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello?
-No, no and no.
-I’m so sorry.
-No hair off my back. But it gives me an idea. Since you know Shakestick…
-Shakespeare.
-Whatever. Since you’ve got such a big crush on him and seem to know all his work, how about you dictate while I type.
-Well, I guess I could recite a sonnet or two, maybe a few monologues but a whole play… I don’t know. Also, if you do all the typing, you’ll get all the credit.
-What do you care? You’ve got a cushy job. I’m the one living in captivity. This could be my ticket to freedom.
-Fair enough.
-So, let’s here it.
-To be or not to be…
And so my quest to free every unicorn in captivity begins.
I hoped it would never come to this, but I’m afraid I no longer have a choice. After a friendly request for the peaceful release of said unicorns, I received thousands of dollars in donations–but no unicorns. So I put up MISSING posters. I now have a school of piranhas, a full t-rex fossil (for sale) and an albino grizzly bear–but still no unicorns. Next, I contacted the FBI. They were busy spying on and each others secretaries and mistresses, so they directed me to PETA. Those hippies were caught up in throwing paint on people and also of no use to my cause.
So as you can see, I had to take matters into my own hands. Luckily, for some years now I’ve been training squirrels in the ways of the Jedi. And now I turn to them to free the unicorns.
Godspeed my fuzzy little Jedi Knights.
In theatres Fall 2030*
*pending legal matters and survival of unicorns
-Do you know what today is?
-Tuesday.
-Yes smart ass. What else?
-Speckled Trout day.
-And?
-We’ve got shows at 1, 3 & 5.
-It’s our anniversary.
-Oh.
-God. I can’t believe you forgot. Again.
-Well excuse me. I hope you can find a place in your heart that can forgive me for not wanting to celebrate the fact we’ve been in captivity for 6 years.
(Angry silence)
-Look, I’m sorry. I forgot how sensitive you are about it.
-No, I’m sorry. I snapped. It’s just… I don’t know… this place. Hey, you know what? I’m gonna do it. Yeah, I am. I’m ready. Today’s the day.
-Here we go again.
-I’m not kidding. I really mean it this time. No more talk. It’s gonna happen today. In the middle of show, I’m gonna jump up there and bite that oppressive motherfucker’s arm off.
-Then what?
-Then they’ll finally let us out of this hellhole.
-More like they’ll make you into soap.
-Bullshit. I’m fuckin’ Shamu, you think they’re gonna put me down. I am Sea World.
-(Whispers under her breath) I’m sorry I even brought it up.
-What?
-Nothing.
-Oh my God! You have to try this guy’s blood. It’s intoxicating.
-Which one?
-The chubby guy near the barbeque.
-He’s not wearing Off is he? Not that it’s going to stop me, but that stuff makes my eyes water.
-No. But he does have one of those swatter thingies. And he’s quicker than he looks.
-That’s fine. I love a good challenge.
(Flies around for a while)
-Ok, I’ve got it. You go buzz around his ear and distract him, then I’ll fly in and sneak a quick taste?
-Brilliant.
-Alright, let’s do this.
(Shortly after)
-You know, I didn’t believe you, but that stuff was really good.
-I know. I’m still buzzed.
-And look at him, scratching away. That shit never gets old. You know who would love this? Jerry. We should go get him.
A good friend (I won’t name names, but it rhymes with Bill Nye The Science Guy) recently invented a device that allows humans to record and translate what animals are saying. Somehow I convinced him to lend it to me, then I took it to the local park for a test drive. Here’s what I captured:
-Will you look at that bitch?
-Which one?
-Three o’clock. The retriever.
-What a coat.
-And check out those hind legs.
-I’m a tail man myself.
-To each his own. So, what’s the play today? Fetch?
-No. It’s too common. Too easy. Anyone can do it.
-Should I go catch a Frisbee?
-It might come across as showboating if you just run up and catch someone else’s Frisbee.
-True. But I am trying to impress her.
-Without looking like a showoff. You’ve got to be confident but cool.
-What if I catch her a squirrel?
-(Grimaces) I don’t know. Every bitch wants someone who can provide for her, but blood and guts don’t always make a good first impression.
-You’re right. You’re right. Oh, what about begging for treats? I’m really good at that.
-Now you’re just getting desperate.
-Well then, I’m done… I’m out. I’ve got nothing left.
-I’ve got it! Why don’t you go over and give her butt a sniff?
-Jesus, that’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? You know what, it was your idea, why don’t you take her?
-Thanks, but no. I’ve got to rest up. I’m seeing my vet early tomorrow.
-Everything ok?
-Oh yeah. It’s just a routine procedure. I heard them say something about a snip but it sounds harmless. I’ll be back day the after tomorrow.
-Ok. The next one’s yours.
-Thanks buddy. Good luck. Let me know how the whole butt-sniffing thing goes.
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