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R. Linda;
Like the sun coming up, the two dimwits began to realise the significance of the ring and must get it back or they could lose their heads. So off they go in pursuit of the ailing monkey. One less dimwitted than the other tells his companion that the ring he thinks, must be someplace inside the monkey's digestive track. One of them has to catch the monkey and hold it while the other cuts into it. While the wobbly monkey made its way along the thick tree limb, the two men followed underneath, hands raised ready to catch it, should it lose its balance and fall. Only suddenly one realises he does not want to do any cutting and tells the other he should do it. This starts an argy-bargy.
"Think of it this way when we are done ain hae the ring, you kin keep the monkey ain use him like a toy, shove yer hand inside like a hand puppet."
The other one shook his head and with a final word, "ick," walked away holding his delicate stomach. Then he came up with a plan.
"We can let him fall an once he does he'll be oot or deid. That weel do us both no good. Since neither of us hae a taste fur cutting open the monkey why don't we try to catch him an then feed him things that weel cause diarrhoea? That way we won't hae to cut him open."
The other dimwit thought for a moment and said, "I think that is gross. Whit if the monkey suffers an explosion diarrhoea? The ring could be thrown anywhere in the brambles ain we'd be sloshing aroon in the stuff fur possibly hours, if not days."
The idea quickly met its end right there.
They thought some more, when the first dimwit says to the other, "We kin wait ain then you can go through the poop ain find it, cus he hast ta go sometime, roight?"
This had the other instantly on his feet protesting why him, why not the other dimwit go through the monkey's poo. This brings rather intense discussion when up in the branches sits the monkey feeling rather poorly. The metal from the ring has poisoned the monkey with an abundance of lead. Feeling constipated and stomach achy the monkey strains and finally poops into a squirrel hole because he is too overcome to climb down and poop in the leaves. Neither dimwit knows what has happened since they were ground level and could not see anything but a sickly sitting monkey.
Suddenly the monkey keels over and falls to the ground. The two dimwits hear the whomp of the monkey hitting the ground, realise it is dead, and pick it up by the tail with glee. Dancing around one of them decries in a loud voice, "Sire, we bring forth yer inheritance!"
And so they run off to their new clan leader thinking HE will open the monkey and retrieve the hallowed ring.
But wait, this great idea doesn't go as planned. When they arrive at the castle, they plunk the dead monkey on the table and with grand smiles and hand gestures at the monkey, their stupid faces having proud expression upon them, they say in unison (as they rehearsed the entire way to the castle), "Sire, we bring forth your inheritance!"
The young laird looks from them to the dead monkey and back. "Ere' ye dolts, wot wad I want with a deid mon-kay?"
One of the "dolts" picked up the monkey and shook it thinking to hear the clank of metal banging around inside, but no such clanking. Uh, uh, not even a dull bling.
"So?" Demands the young laird, looking cross.
"Weel, it talks it does," said one and they all looked at the dead lifeless monkey.
"IT'S DEID, OW CAN IT TALK YA DOLT?"
"Yeah weel, roight it USED ta talk," ventured one dimwit as the other stupidly scratched his head.
"Mon-kays donnae talk or is it because ye are a mon-kay yersel, ye think this miniature ape hae the same ability?" The young laird squinted his eyes at both men. They both scratched their heads looking around like an answer from the blue might hit them, but alas, none did.
"Ye both better tell me where my inheritance is, or ye'll find yersels cooling yer heels upside down from that tree outside the window!"
With stilted speech they interrupted each other to tell the young laird how they came to lose his inheritance and how they were outwitted by a mere monkey, forget it was capable at the time of thought and speech. The young laird sat at table staring at the two, his mind trying to grasp any reality in the story at all. He looked at the dead monkey and with a bejewelled finger he pointed at it and turned to a servant.
"Take this creature ain cut it open. Then these two weel feel inside fur my father's ring. Do it now!"
And off the monkey was carted by the servant followed by the two dimwits, walking backwards and bowing to the young laird as they went.
The gross details of autopsy do not have to be disclosed here, suffice it to say, as you well know, no ring was found inside the wee beastie. This surprised the two fools, who the servant informed them, were going to hang for stealing a valuable ring.
Oh my.
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda;
Like the sun coming up, the two dimwits began to realise the significance of the ring and must get it back or they could lose their heads. So off they go in pursuit of the ailing monkey. One less dimwitted than the other tells his companion that the ring he thinks, must be someplace inside the monkey's digestive track. One of them has to catch the monkey and hold it while the other cuts into it. While the wobbly monkey made its way along the thick tree limb, the two men followed underneath, hands raised ready to catch it, should it lose its balance and fall. Only suddenly one realises he does not want to do any cutting and tells the other he should do it. This starts an argy-bargy.
"Think of it this way when we are done ain hae the ring, you kin keep the monkey ain use him like a toy, shove yer hand inside like a hand puppet."
The other one shook his head and with a final word, "ick," walked away holding his delicate stomach. Then he came up with a plan.
"We can let him fall an once he does he'll be oot or deid. That weel do us both no good. Since neither of us hae a taste fur cutting open the monkey why don't we try to catch him an then feed him things that weel cause diarrhoea? That way we won't hae to cut him open."
The other dimwit thought for a moment and said, "I think that is gross. Whit if the monkey suffers an explosion diarrhoea? The ring could be thrown anywhere in the brambles ain we'd be sloshing aroon in the stuff fur possibly hours, if not days."
The idea quickly met its end right there.
They thought some more, when the first dimwit says to the other, "We kin wait ain then you can go through the poop ain find it, cus he hast ta go sometime, roight?"
This had the other instantly on his feet protesting why him, why not the other dimwit go through the monkey's poo. This brings rather intense discussion when up in the branches sits the monkey feeling rather poorly. The metal from the ring has poisoned the monkey with an abundance of lead. Feeling constipated and stomach achy the monkey strains and finally poops into a squirrel hole because he is too overcome to climb down and poop in the leaves. Neither dimwit knows what has happened since they were ground level and could not see anything but a sickly sitting monkey.
Suddenly the monkey keels over and falls to the ground. The two dimwits hear the whomp of the monkey hitting the ground, realise it is dead, and pick it up by the tail with glee. Dancing around one of them decries in a loud voice, "Sire, we bring forth yer inheritance!"
And so they run off to their new clan leader thinking HE will open the monkey and retrieve the hallowed ring.
But wait, this great idea doesn't go as planned. When they arrive at the castle, they plunk the dead monkey on the table and with grand smiles and hand gestures at the monkey, their stupid faces having proud expression upon them, they say in unison (as they rehearsed the entire way to the castle), "Sire, we bring forth your inheritance!"
The young laird looks from them to the dead monkey and back. "Ere' ye dolts, wot wad I want with a deid mon-kay?"
One of the "dolts" picked up the monkey and shook it thinking to hear the clank of metal banging around inside, but no such clanking. Uh, uh, not even a dull bling.
"So?" Demands the young laird, looking cross.
"Weel, it talks it does," said one and they all looked at the dead lifeless monkey.
"IT'S DEID, OW CAN IT TALK YA DOLT?"
"Yeah weel, roight it USED ta talk," ventured one dimwit as the other stupidly scratched his head.
"Mon-kays donnae talk or is it because ye are a mon-kay yersel, ye think this miniature ape hae the same ability?" The young laird squinted his eyes at both men. They both scratched their heads looking around like an answer from the blue might hit them, but alas, none did.
"Ye both better tell me where my inheritance is, or ye'll find yersels cooling yer heels upside down from that tree outside the window!"
With stilted speech they interrupted each other to tell the young laird how they came to lose his inheritance and how they were outwitted by a mere monkey, forget it was capable at the time of thought and speech. The young laird sat at table staring at the two, his mind trying to grasp any reality in the story at all. He looked at the dead monkey and with a bejewelled finger he pointed at it and turned to a servant.
"Take this creature ain cut it open. Then these two weel feel inside fur my father's ring. Do it now!"
And off the monkey was carted by the servant followed by the two dimwits, walking backwards and bowing to the young laird as they went.
The gross details of autopsy do not have to be disclosed here, suffice it to say, as you well know, no ring was found inside the wee beastie. This surprised the two fools, who the servant informed them, were going to hang for stealing a valuable ring.
Oh my.
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
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