A Monkey’s Uncle

Animal poaching is cruel business.

Take cocktail monkeys, for instance.

Oh, you laugh. But this is serious business. I mean, $56 for 250
plastic cocktail monkeys serious. And that’s from a supplier in
Australia. Shipping fees, anyone?

See, Typecast Press needs these monkeys. We wear monkeys on our shop smocks, monkeys on our shop aprons, Mary’s more likely than not to have a monkey on her T-shirt, we even have the book All About Monkeys on our shop reading shelf — our tiki drinks are going to wear monkeys too, by gum.

And yet they are suddenly an endangered species. Try it. Find a batch on the Internet. Mary did, but not without a serious hunt. Oh, you’ll see listings for them. But they’re all out of stock.

Someone or some nefarious force has swept in and disrupted the market for cocktail  monkeys. Swear to god. Mary and Shop Boy spent the better part of two  hours seeking them … when there were much more pressing issues at hand, I assure you. And once we did find this rarest of plastic beasts, we did what anyone in our situation would do: hoard.

Wait. Doesn’t that makes us just as bad?

Hey, I said it was a cruel business. And now Typecast Press, at least
as far as what’s left of the vanishing cocktail monkeys is concerned, has cornered the market.

So the next time you absolutely must have a pink, blue, green or
orange monkey hanging by its plastic prehensile tail from the rim of
your tropical cocktail, let’s talk.

We’re cruel but fair.

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3 Responses to “A Monkey’s Uncle”

  1. charlesprice Says:

    You, Shop Boy, should know all about monkeying around with cocktails. Now they’ll raise the price of Green Lights. See what your greediness has done.

  2. charlesprice Says:

    What’s wrong with cocktail elephants hanging by their properly curved trunks? Could be a signal from the bartender that your Green Light has just turned red.

  3. charlesprice Says:

    Of course, the elephants would need to be pink.

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