One day while wandering aimlessly through a ghetto, I found a pet store named Homey's Petz Yo. I had a couple of nickels in my pocket, so I decided to go in. I smelled stale cake. It turns out it was run by some black guy named Homey, and it was really a bakery. He asked me if I wanted a donut, then he said that I was phat, so I kicked him in the genitals. He kicked me back and I knocked over his cake rotator machine. The motor hit me in the genitals. It stung for a second or two, but after that it left a fresh pine scent of ground genitals.
After eating all of the cake off me and buying another donut from Homey, (My other one was smooshed on Homey's genitals from when i kicked him, he blocked his manliness with the donut.) I opened the door. When it hit the homeless guy outside, he fell over and started screaming about his genitals. Anyway, I really should get on with my story. After I tripped over the homeless guy who was laying outside the door, I was approached by two guys with something the matter with their pants. They were bigger than them, and one of them said BOSS on it. They sure didnt look like my boss. The other ones had FUBU on their shirts and trousers. I wondered if that was like golf. Maybe it was British golf.
Well, I kept on walking. And walking. I tripped over a couple of fire hydrants along my merry way, but my genitals were so numb from the cake machine motor that I hardly felt anything. Finally, I came to this pet store. The name of the pet store was Yes! We're OPEN. It had the store name in big neon letters in the front window of the store, and the name of the store was OPEN. Welp, This guy was walkin out with a little doggie. I decided to take a bite out of its ear to see what it tasted like - Furry goodness. Tasted salty, but with a pleasant aftertaste. The dog bit my genitals. They fell off. I guess I'll grow new ones.
And I did. Five minutes later in fact. After all of the people had stopped pointing and staring and laughing, they just reappeared. Pretty Cool huh? Regenerating genitals.
Anyways, I walked into the pet store and tripped over a bird cage. I think I might be going blind. There was this indian guy behind a counter with a fly swatter in his hand. He was swatting flies. He had a whole mess splattered on the cash register. I picked up a fly swatter from the shelf and swatted him. He swatted me. We continued on and on until the rhinocerous in the back room came out and broke it up. I have fly swatter marks all over my face. OK on with the story. I told the hindu that I wanted a pet for my apartment. He suggested monkeys. I told him that I had already had monkeys and that they died. He told me that he also had penguins. I dont have a refrigerator so I had no place for them. He also told me that he was selling baby dinosaurs. I told him that they werent for me. Then he suggested yaks. I was so madly fascinated with yaks that I offered $.05 a peice for them. He agreed as long as i gave him my car keys. I figured that my car wouldnt be helpful any more since I lived in the ghetto. So I gave him the keys to my stolen 1998 Rolls Royce and he giggled. I also told him that there was a new pine tree air freshener in there and he was happy.
The hindu guy went into the back room and brought me along with him. The door opened backwards, and the doorknob hit me in the freshly regrown genitals. This time they didnt fall off. I went back into the room and there were 3 solid crates marked WARNING LIVE YAKS INSIDE - JUST ADD WATER. We priied them open using a crow bar, which once I accidentally slipped and hit the hindu in the genitals. He said "Eh, I dont need 'em anyway. If yours fall off you can have mine - deal?" I agreed. But i guess I didnt really need them, because mine regenerate. But oh well. I could have two and be a two genitalled man - cool. Anyway, I pried the yaks out. They were all in these plastic baggies. I added water. They blew up and stampeded over me. My genitals fell off. I took the hindu man's. I had to walk the yaks home using a dog leash and some shoelace, being that the cashier had my car keys. When I got to my apartment bulding, I led 50 of the yaks to my door. Then I remembered when I gave the cashier EVERYTHING in my wallet, including my apartment keys. So I decided to have one of the yaks, which I had named Yakkie (come to think of it, I named them all Yakkie. Oh well ill deal with that later.) to run down my door.
I knew that my landlord wouldnt like it, but she hadnt found out about the monkeys yet, even though the whole bulding reeks of monkey and yak terds now that I have 50 brand spankin' new yaks (actually I spank THEM but they punch me in genitals, now I have black and blues all over the pelvic area.) following me around. Any way I figgered my landlord was hibernating and I knocked down the door. They would not fit through the door so I punched them in the genitals. Then they fit.
Little did I know that yaks are attracted to the scent of dead monkey. Pretty soon I had dead yaks everywhere. In the toilet, in the freezer, and on my bed. I really had to go to sleep and man, was I dyin' to take a whiz. So I went on the rug. THIS woke my landlord up and she kicked me in the genitals. I kicked a dead yak in the geitals. The genitals fell off and became crusty, shriveled, and moldy. I went to jail and the inmates kicked me in the genitals---my roomate was a yak.
I like yaks.
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categories: animals, nature