Poor Scott has been asking me to write on here for ages... and I am a loser, so I am just now getting to it. However, I am also very tired, and I have an exploded knee... so this will be short. Very short. Ahem:
[INDENT]Scott ambled into his room and all but threw himself down into his worn desk chair. He stared blankly at his large computer screen for some time before sighing loudly and glancing at the clock. The small machine ticked away the time, oblivious to Scott's agitated state.

"Well," he said aloud, "I guess there's nothing left to do but buy the damned monkey."

Sighing again, Scott unfolded his lanky form from out of his chair and reached for his phone.


[/INDENT]And now I'm going to bed

"Thank you for calling MonkeyzRus. This is Jill. How can I help you?" The lady on the other end of the phone line sounded bored, as if she'd taken one too many calls."

"Uhh, yeah hi. This is Scott. I need to buy a monkey."

"What sort of monkey did you have in mind, Scott?"

"You mean there are different kinds?"

Jill sounds exasperated. "Yes. We carry a large selection of Monkeys, depending on what you're looking for. Have you looked at our inventory on our website?"

Scott looked through the inventory. "Hrm," he said to himself, "AIDs monkey, butler monkey, candy-coated monkey, drunk monkey..."

"I'm sorry, sir," Jill said, "but you can call back once you have looked through the inventory--"

"OOO!" Scott interrupted. "FLYING MONKEY! I want a flying monkey!"

"Sir, have you read the fine print about--"

"FLYING MONKEY FLYING MONKEY WANT WANT WANT!"

Jill sighs. "Very well then. That'll be 12 payments of $29.99. Please allow 4-6 minutes for delivery."

"But what about--"

Scott was interrupted by the dial tone.

"OK..."

Four minutes later, Scott was pacing around his bedroom, periodically mildly concussing himself on his lightshade and occasionally glancing at the clock on his desk, which seemed to be mocking him.

Seconds ticked past. A cyclist drifts past in their own little world. The wind ruffles through the grass outside and for one moment, the scene is one of peace and tranquility. At least, until a battered, poorly driven TNT delivery truck careens over the verge, churning up the grass and knocking the cyclist flying before ploughing into a tree with a very satisfying sound of tortured metal. The driver staggers out of the cab and pulls out a large, rather ominous-looking crate pocked with airholes and plastered with "DO NOT OPEN. EVER. SERIOUSLY. WE MEAN IT" stickers.

Eventually there's a tentative knock on the door. Squealing like a little girl, Scott manages to break the land speed record - among other things - in the dash to the front door and opens it, looking slightly out of breath.

"Package for a Mr... whatever. Just take the bloody thing," the deliveryman mutters before taking a hit from the bottle of scotch in his hand and proffering an official-looking piece of paper with arcane lettering on it to Scott, who promptly signs it and looks at the slightly worrying crate with a sign of unadulterated glee. As he goes to close the door, the TNT truck skids backwards before sharply accelerating with half a bicycle lodged in its bonnet and screeching back over the verge, out of sight.

[INDENT]Scott frowned at the delivery man's odd behavior, but shrugged it off as he remembered he was holding a rather fidgety parcel. The package was plain and unremarkable, not even holes for air! There was a faint musty smell wafting from the brown cardboard that made Scott wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"My very own flying monkey!" he proclaimed loudly. That weird, old man was right, he thought.

Scott rushed to his kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find. Whoever packaged the monkey had wrapped it in an inch of tape!
[/INDENT]

As Scott is just about ready to cut the box open, his phone rings. He grumbles, stepping into the other room to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Scott, it's me, your one-and-only sister. Just seeing if you're heading over today."

Hard cardboard flumping can be heard from the other room.

"Today...? Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot! Yeah, I'll still be over."

More flumping noises are heard. Scott continues to not notice.

"That's good to hear. You didn't forget to buy the monkey, did you?"

"Heh, nope! Got it all covered!"

A very loud flump immediately followed by something glass breaking.

"What was that?"

"Uh...nothing. I'll see you there -- gotta go!"

Scott hangs up the phone and walks back into the other room, where he sees the delivery box violently opened, next to a lamp that had fallen. Scott looks up.

"Crap."