Monkeys don’t fuck around. Bitches’ll steal your soul and dip bananas into it like chocolate syrup.
That grandma? Toast. Burnt fucking bread. She may look normal to you and I, but on the inside she’s a dead sack of Mylanta and vitamin supplements. That monkey did work on her, and there’s no coming back from a monkey attack.
Nice knowing you grandma; be sure to keep sending me a check for my birthday.