Monkeys Wearing Pants Read Online Free PDF Page A

occupied by Thumper, a Mexican
wrestler, a couple of Mandrake plants, Charlie Brown's teacher and
some guy who made one trip too many to the all-you-can-eat Vindaloo
chicken buffet.
    While flying home today there was this guy in
the Seattle airport who totally looked like he should be an
international assassin. I was very tempted to go up to him and say,
“I thought Jason Bourne killed you.”
    Note to self: not a good idea for anyone
involved to hang out the "do not disturb" sign when naked.
    Driving back from Fresno yesterday, I got
into an ugly fight with my GPS. She said some things that were just
wrong. I said some things I later regretted. She is just so
stubborn and rigid and unyielding. I like to mix things up once in
a while. Anyway, I think we're OK now.
    I have a new clock app on my Kindle. I got it
specifically so I could use my Kindle as a nightstand clock with an
alarm that was easier to use than the typical PhD-highly-suggested,
IQ of 197 plus required hotel clock radio. Last night, I set the
alarm and fell blissfully asleep while the neon green, analog
numbers softly bathed the room in a dim glow suitable for a scene
in a Ridley Scott Alien movie. I was in a deep sleep when the alarm
went off this morning: a loud, slumber-shattering, Pokémon
seizure-inducing, high-pitched beeping that is the electronic
equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. I shot straight up in bed with
one thought and one thought only: How do I turn this thing off? In
my cheery state of setting the alarm last night, I didn’t go so far
as to figure that out. Holding my Kindle, each jarring note of the
alarm hitting me like a hellish combination of a dentist’s drill
and a dozen mosquitos mating in my eardrum, I pushed and slid and
swiped everything I could see on the screen to no avail. The alarm
continued to warn of impending tsunamis and an imminent German air
raid. OH MY GOD, MUST MAKE IT STOP! I tried closing the app, but
that didn’t work. I opened it again and went into the menu, looking
for a way to end the madness, but there was nothing there. SWEET,
BLESSED JESUS AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO? I fiddled
and fussed and then, as I imagined an angry mob of hotel guests
armed with pitchforks, clubs and torches (and maybe a Kindle of
their own! Gasp!), it hit me. YOU IDIOT, JUST TURN IT OFF! Pushing
down on the power button with enough pressure to stop blood from
spurting out of a major artery, and with the alarm from hell still
screeching at me like a cheated-on girlfriend, the Kindle greeted
me with this screen: “DO YOU WANT TO SHUT DOWN YOUR KINDLE?”
followed by two buttons reading “Shut Down” and “Cancel.” At that
moment, I had never wanted anything so badly in my life. I tapped,
tapped, tapped the “Shut Down” button like one of Poe’s ravens and
watched as the Kindle’s screen turned black and, FINALLY, off.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! WAIT A MINUTE…THE ALARM IS STILL GOING! HOW IS
THIS POSSIBLE? Had I downloaded an app from the future? Was my
Kindle being run by some demonic creature from Hell? Am I being
punked? Did someone just really, really want to make sure I didn’t
oversleep? I jumped out of bed thinking that I might be able to
flush the Kindle down the toilet. That’s when I noticed my cell
phone on the floor, where I had apparently knocked it to in the
middle of the night. OH YEAH, I had set the alarm on my phone as a
back-up, just in case, and it was my phone, not my Kindle, that was
beeping like R2-D2 high on meth and a bad can of WD-40. I turned
off my phone, and the room was once again silence. Oops. My bad.
And my Kindle app? It never did turn on the alarm. I’m going back
to bed.
    If little Jonny goes on a trip for 7 days and
needs one pair of socks and one pair of underwear for each, day how
many pairs total does he need of each? I don't know the answer,
apparently, because I have 8 pairs of socks and 6 pairs of
underwear. This new math is killing me!
    Aside from the carpool lanes and the