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Ok I think this is one of the finniest stories I have ever read. For my English class, we are writing short stories and this is one of my classmates. I was laughing the whole time ^.^
Pippin the Monkey Gets a Top Hat
By: Raymond Walsh
For all of my life I have had one dream--to get a top hat. I would wear this top hat to a fancy party and people would come up to me and say, “Why Pippin that is a fine top hat.” And I would say, “Yes. It certainly is.”
I have lain awake countless nights fantasizing about that party and that top hat. It was all I ever wanted out of my life. However, I never told my mother about this dream. She always told me that my fantasies were a waste of time. I would tell her something that I wanted to do and she would say, “Pippin that is a waste of time. You will go to school and become a tax auditor like our monkey ancestors before us.”
And I would say, “No mother, I will go to fancy parties and be popular with a top hat.”
Then she would reply, “No Pippin, you will be a tax auditor!”
And I would say, “Alright mother. I will be a tax auditor.”
Whenever I would get into these fights with my mother I would go over to my friend Roscoe’s house and play Yahzee. Roscoe was a great friend. He was a wise, old raccoon, who never said much, but he let me eat all the Cheez Its I could ever want, and as a monkey, I enjoyed that a lot. One day after an argument with my mother Roscoe suggested that I get a top hat and go to a party without telling her. I should just go, and if it were as great as my dreams, I could move in with him and his wife. Their kids had moved out a few years ago. If the parties weren’t all I had thought they would be, I could always become a tax auditor as my mother wished.
Roscoe’s idea intrigued me, so the next day we set out to get me a top hat. The first place we stopped was Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats. However, once we got there, we ran into some problems. Apparently, humans do not accept bananas as a form of payment. Luckily for us, Aaron was willing to make a deal. If we were to bring him a bottle of magical pixie juice, he would give me the top hat. I turned to Roscoe and said, “Wow, that guy is so gay, and he doesn’t even like boys.” He didn’t reply.
So Roscoe and I set off to see the magical pixie that lived under to old broken-down bridge three towns over. It was quite an arduous trip. We had to take a taxi driven by an irate Canadian. He didn’t say much the entire trip over, but I could hear him cursing under his breath on an almost constant basis.
Once again, we were without a form of payment. Nobody seems to want to be paid in bananas. So I yelled, “Cheese it!” as we tried to run away. Unfortunately, irate Canadians are fast runners, so he caught us before we could get away. We explained our monetary situation to him, so he agreed to make a deal. If we were able to get a piece of green yarn for him, he would not charge us for the taxi ride. However, if we did not return with a piece of green yarn within the hour, he would hunt us down and turn Roscoe into a hat for his niece, and he would put me in the circus to entertain dyslexic mice. We didn’t want to risk being late because Canadians are excellent hunters, especially when they are irate.
We ran off towards the city in order to find a piece of green yarn, and someone that would accept bananas as a form of payment. I said to Roscoe, “Where the hell are we supposed to find green yarn? Hey! That squirrel over there is line dancing!”
I ran up to the squirrel to watch the show. She introduced herself as Sam the Line Dancing Squirrel. She was a ridiculously good line dancer, but I wasn’t really surprised by that, squirrels are excellent dancers. I asked why she was dancing for spare change that random people gave when she could be a serious entertainer. She said, “You see, all these people who give me change are just looking for a way to stroke their own egos and show the world what kind and generous people they are. Yeah, you’re really good people; giving less than a dollar to the needy while you go home and sit in your luxurious two story homes with your two car garage, watching some random mindless show on your big plasma tv. Oh, you gave sixty cents to someone who couldn’t afford to eat today, what a magnificent sacrifice you made. How could you ever live without that sixty cents. You’re all as useless as tits on a nun, you cum covered, bloody tampons!”
“Wow. If they piss you off so much, why do you try and entertain them?”
“I figure, if they are pretending to be charitable, I can pretend to be needy. Fuck them. Oh, and you can find a piece of green yarn at Jen the Retarded White Whale’s Yarn Shop. Watch out for her though. She’s a weird one. I swear, she doesn’t even have a father. She was just a result of battery acid leaking out of her mother’s vibrator.”
“How did you know we needed to find a piece of green yarn?”
“Dude, you were standing three feet away from me when you told the raccoon you didn’t know where to find green yarn.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Way to fail, yo.”
We were able to find the place that had green yarn, but they did not accept the bananas as a form of payment. We entered Jen the Retarded White Whale’s Yarn Shop with the expectation that we would be forced on another random side trip, but we got lucky. Instead, Jen wanted something that we were able to provide without having to travel to some other random place. She said to us, “I’s wantse sexy time wit happy raccoon!”
I turned to Roscoe and said, “Well Casanova, time to get busy!” Roscoe replied with, “Damn it.”
He and Jen the retarded white whale went into the back room. I took the piece of green yarn and waited for Roscoe to finish. I heard some incredibly disturbing noises that sounded like a cat slowly being run over by a steam roller, crossed with a dog choking on a piece of Salisbury steak. Roscoe came out with a depressed look on his face and we left. I tried not to laugh, but I wasn’t successful. We got back to the taxi driver and gave him the piece of green yarn, and he said we were free to go.
So we continued on our interrupted trip to find the magical pixie that lived under the old bridge. When we got there, we found him yelling at a small bug that was crawling on a box. He was telling it to get a job and quit haunting his dreams with his magical bug powers of interruption. I walked up to him and asked if I could have a glass of magical pixie juice. He looked at me and said, “Why certainly young man. All I need is some gold from the magical forest so that I can buy a potato.”
I asked why he would need a potato, and he told me he needed it to stop the ponies from banding together with the leeches to create a new world order in which cheese came from antelopes and tartar sauce could only be eaten after it had been barbequed due to a conspiracy by the American Pie Council. I told him that I would go and get him some magical gold as soon as possible, and I asked where I could find the magical forest. He told me that to find the magical forest; I would have to get a map from a man named Sclerenchyma. I asked where I could find this man, and he told me to go to Home Depot.
Roscoe and I quickly made our way over to Home Depot and found a man standing outside the door with a sign reading “Sclerenchyma.” I knew that had to be him, so I walked up to him and asked if he would give me a map to the magical forest. He told me he would be happy to do so if I would get him a bag of Pixi Stix. I agreed to do so, and Roscoe and I headed over to the nearest Express Mart. When we go there, I realized that we would not be able to buy the Pixi Stix because we only had bananas, and no one takes bananas as a form of payment, especially not those bastards at the Express Mart. I quickly came up with a plan. We would go back to Jen the Retarded White Whale. Roscoe would have sex with her again in exchange for her assistance in obtaining the Pixi Stix. She would run into the Express Mart and make a big, retarded scene. While she was doing so, I would steal the Pixi Stix and get away. When I told this plan to Roscoe, he said only one word, “Damn it.”
We got back to Jen the Retarded White Whale, and she agreed to go through with the plan. Roscoe went to the back room again and started having sex with her. While this was happening, I saw a little boy walking outside with a bag of Pixi Stix. I went up to him and asked if he would trade his bag of Pixi Stix in exchange for me smashing a banana onto a raccoon. He agreed. When Roscoe came back outside, I smashed a banana in his face. He said damn it as the little boy laughed and gave me the bag of Pixi Stix. I told Roscoe about this deal and how the sex with Jen the Retarded White Whale was pointless, to which he replied, “Damn it.”
We took the bag of Pixi Stix back to Sclerenchyma. He gave us the map, and we went off in search of the magical forest. We got there and saw a pot of gold right inside the boundary of the forest. I told Roscoe to go inside and get it. He walked through the woods and grabbed the gold. However, when he tried to come back out, he found that he was magically trapped inside the magical forest. All he said was, “Damn it.”
I told him to throw me some of the gold, which he did.
I grabbed it and walked away quickly. I took a cab back to the magical pixi and gave it the gold. He turned around and made up a fresh batch of pixi juice while I listened to The Dropkick Murphys play:
Something’s gone wrong with the world today
What’s the matter with the human race
Everybody’s fighting for more power and money
Braveheart’s a racist
The paperboy’s a junkie
This was Roscoe’s favorite song, and it was a little sad to think of him trapped in the magical forest by some magical gold, but I had bigger things to worry about. The pixi finished up and said to me, “You know this magical pixi juice is just some sugar free lemonade, right?”
“Yeah, but the crazy guy who runs the gun shop doesn’t know that.”
“Ah, Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats. Good store. Guns and top hats, now that is class!”
I took the cab back to Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats and gave him the pixie juice. He said thank you and drank it all at once. He then handed me an old top hat. I was closer to my dream than ever before! I quickly ran home and told my father all about my day and my plan to go to the fancy party. He told me he was proud of me for going after my goals, but asked why I didn’t just borrow his top hat. I had not known he had a top hat, and I was happily surprised to find that it was much fancier than the one I had acquired. I put this top hat on and headed out to the fancy party. When I got there I mingled with the crowd and had a wonderful time. Sadly, my dream was shattered when someone walked by and said, “Why that is the most garish top hat I have ever seen.”
Pippin the Monkey Gets a Top Hat
By: Raymond Walsh
For all of my life I have had one dream--to get a top hat. I would wear this top hat to a fancy party and people would come up to me and say, “Why Pippin that is a fine top hat.” And I would say, “Yes. It certainly is.”
I have lain awake countless nights fantasizing about that party and that top hat. It was all I ever wanted out of my life. However, I never told my mother about this dream. She always told me that my fantasies were a waste of time. I would tell her something that I wanted to do and she would say, “Pippin that is a waste of time. You will go to school and become a tax auditor like our monkey ancestors before us.”
And I would say, “No mother, I will go to fancy parties and be popular with a top hat.”
Then she would reply, “No Pippin, you will be a tax auditor!”
And I would say, “Alright mother. I will be a tax auditor.”
Whenever I would get into these fights with my mother I would go over to my friend Roscoe’s house and play Yahzee. Roscoe was a great friend. He was a wise, old raccoon, who never said much, but he let me eat all the Cheez Its I could ever want, and as a monkey, I enjoyed that a lot. One day after an argument with my mother Roscoe suggested that I get a top hat and go to a party without telling her. I should just go, and if it were as great as my dreams, I could move in with him and his wife. Their kids had moved out a few years ago. If the parties weren’t all I had thought they would be, I could always become a tax auditor as my mother wished.
Roscoe’s idea intrigued me, so the next day we set out to get me a top hat. The first place we stopped was Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats. However, once we got there, we ran into some problems. Apparently, humans do not accept bananas as a form of payment. Luckily for us, Aaron was willing to make a deal. If we were to bring him a bottle of magical pixie juice, he would give me the top hat. I turned to Roscoe and said, “Wow, that guy is so gay, and he doesn’t even like boys.” He didn’t reply.
So Roscoe and I set off to see the magical pixie that lived under to old broken-down bridge three towns over. It was quite an arduous trip. We had to take a taxi driven by an irate Canadian. He didn’t say much the entire trip over, but I could hear him cursing under his breath on an almost constant basis.
Once again, we were without a form of payment. Nobody seems to want to be paid in bananas. So I yelled, “Cheese it!” as we tried to run away. Unfortunately, irate Canadians are fast runners, so he caught us before we could get away. We explained our monetary situation to him, so he agreed to make a deal. If we were able to get a piece of green yarn for him, he would not charge us for the taxi ride. However, if we did not return with a piece of green yarn within the hour, he would hunt us down and turn Roscoe into a hat for his niece, and he would put me in the circus to entertain dyslexic mice. We didn’t want to risk being late because Canadians are excellent hunters, especially when they are irate.
We ran off towards the city in order to find a piece of green yarn, and someone that would accept bananas as a form of payment. I said to Roscoe, “Where the hell are we supposed to find green yarn? Hey! That squirrel over there is line dancing!”
I ran up to the squirrel to watch the show. She introduced herself as Sam the Line Dancing Squirrel. She was a ridiculously good line dancer, but I wasn’t really surprised by that, squirrels are excellent dancers. I asked why she was dancing for spare change that random people gave when she could be a serious entertainer. She said, “You see, all these people who give me change are just looking for a way to stroke their own egos and show the world what kind and generous people they are. Yeah, you’re really good people; giving less than a dollar to the needy while you go home and sit in your luxurious two story homes with your two car garage, watching some random mindless show on your big plasma tv. Oh, you gave sixty cents to someone who couldn’t afford to eat today, what a magnificent sacrifice you made. How could you ever live without that sixty cents. You’re all as useless as tits on a nun, you cum covered, bloody tampons!”
“Wow. If they piss you off so much, why do you try and entertain them?”
“I figure, if they are pretending to be charitable, I can pretend to be needy. Fuck them. Oh, and you can find a piece of green yarn at Jen the Retarded White Whale’s Yarn Shop. Watch out for her though. She’s a weird one. I swear, she doesn’t even have a father. She was just a result of battery acid leaking out of her mother’s vibrator.”
“How did you know we needed to find a piece of green yarn?”
“Dude, you were standing three feet away from me when you told the raccoon you didn’t know where to find green yarn.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Way to fail, yo.”
We were able to find the place that had green yarn, but they did not accept the bananas as a form of payment. We entered Jen the Retarded White Whale’s Yarn Shop with the expectation that we would be forced on another random side trip, but we got lucky. Instead, Jen wanted something that we were able to provide without having to travel to some other random place. She said to us, “I’s wantse sexy time wit happy raccoon!”
I turned to Roscoe and said, “Well Casanova, time to get busy!” Roscoe replied with, “Damn it.”
He and Jen the retarded white whale went into the back room. I took the piece of green yarn and waited for Roscoe to finish. I heard some incredibly disturbing noises that sounded like a cat slowly being run over by a steam roller, crossed with a dog choking on a piece of Salisbury steak. Roscoe came out with a depressed look on his face and we left. I tried not to laugh, but I wasn’t successful. We got back to the taxi driver and gave him the piece of green yarn, and he said we were free to go.
So we continued on our interrupted trip to find the magical pixie that lived under the old bridge. When we got there, we found him yelling at a small bug that was crawling on a box. He was telling it to get a job and quit haunting his dreams with his magical bug powers of interruption. I walked up to him and asked if I could have a glass of magical pixie juice. He looked at me and said, “Why certainly young man. All I need is some gold from the magical forest so that I can buy a potato.”
I asked why he would need a potato, and he told me he needed it to stop the ponies from banding together with the leeches to create a new world order in which cheese came from antelopes and tartar sauce could only be eaten after it had been barbequed due to a conspiracy by the American Pie Council. I told him that I would go and get him some magical gold as soon as possible, and I asked where I could find the magical forest. He told me that to find the magical forest; I would have to get a map from a man named Sclerenchyma. I asked where I could find this man, and he told me to go to Home Depot.
Roscoe and I quickly made our way over to Home Depot and found a man standing outside the door with a sign reading “Sclerenchyma.” I knew that had to be him, so I walked up to him and asked if he would give me a map to the magical forest. He told me he would be happy to do so if I would get him a bag of Pixi Stix. I agreed to do so, and Roscoe and I headed over to the nearest Express Mart. When we go there, I realized that we would not be able to buy the Pixi Stix because we only had bananas, and no one takes bananas as a form of payment, especially not those bastards at the Express Mart. I quickly came up with a plan. We would go back to Jen the Retarded White Whale. Roscoe would have sex with her again in exchange for her assistance in obtaining the Pixi Stix. She would run into the Express Mart and make a big, retarded scene. While she was doing so, I would steal the Pixi Stix and get away. When I told this plan to Roscoe, he said only one word, “Damn it.”
We got back to Jen the Retarded White Whale, and she agreed to go through with the plan. Roscoe went to the back room again and started having sex with her. While this was happening, I saw a little boy walking outside with a bag of Pixi Stix. I went up to him and asked if he would trade his bag of Pixi Stix in exchange for me smashing a banana onto a raccoon. He agreed. When Roscoe came back outside, I smashed a banana in his face. He said damn it as the little boy laughed and gave me the bag of Pixi Stix. I told Roscoe about this deal and how the sex with Jen the Retarded White Whale was pointless, to which he replied, “Damn it.”
We took the bag of Pixi Stix back to Sclerenchyma. He gave us the map, and we went off in search of the magical forest. We got there and saw a pot of gold right inside the boundary of the forest. I told Roscoe to go inside and get it. He walked through the woods and grabbed the gold. However, when he tried to come back out, he found that he was magically trapped inside the magical forest. All he said was, “Damn it.”
I told him to throw me some of the gold, which he did.
I grabbed it and walked away quickly. I took a cab back to the magical pixi and gave it the gold. He turned around and made up a fresh batch of pixi juice while I listened to The Dropkick Murphys play:
Something’s gone wrong with the world today
What’s the matter with the human race
Everybody’s fighting for more power and money
Braveheart’s a racist
The paperboy’s a junkie
This was Roscoe’s favorite song, and it was a little sad to think of him trapped in the magical forest by some magical gold, but I had bigger things to worry about. The pixi finished up and said to me, “You know this magical pixi juice is just some sugar free lemonade, right?”
“Yeah, but the crazy guy who runs the gun shop doesn’t know that.”
“Ah, Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats. Good store. Guns and top hats, now that is class!”
I took the cab back to Aaron’s Gun Emporium and Top Hats and gave him the pixie juice. He said thank you and drank it all at once. He then handed me an old top hat. I was closer to my dream than ever before! I quickly ran home and told my father all about my day and my plan to go to the fancy party. He told me he was proud of me for going after my goals, but asked why I didn’t just borrow his top hat. I had not known he had a top hat, and I was happily surprised to find that it was much fancier than the one I had acquired. I put this top hat on and headed out to the fancy party. When I got there I mingled with the crowd and had a wonderful time. Sadly, my dream was shattered when someone walked by and said, “Why that is the most garish top hat I have ever seen.”