Last night I had one of my gibbons penetrate kickycan.

I have a terrible hangover today and waves of guilt have been washing over me in a relentless, pounding fashion. Here's what happened:

I have recently had several of my gibbons move into my house, for companionship. They're pretty fun guys and the three of us sit around at night and get drunk and whoop it up pretty good, but, damn, I really wish they could talk. I'd be sipping on a tall glass of whiskey and suddenly get the urge to discuss politics. Leaning across the table I'd look at Bert (the white-headed gibbon with the missing finger) and say, "Bert, what do you think of the current political situation?" He'd look at me, throw his head back, suck on his teeth, and stick a banana up his butt. Then he'd start hollering and spinning in circles on the chair. Ferderko, the other gibbon, would laugh hysterically as he pulled up and down on the window shade.

It was at that point that I noticed Kickycan stumbling up the sidewalk toward my door.

"Hide!" , I shouted to the gibbons. They scurried off to the back room and dove behind an enormous pile of National Geographics.

I opened the front door just as Kicky was getting ready to knock. "Hi, Gus, I got nothin' to do. They kicked me off the scrabble site for posting too many pornographic words and there's nobody over at A2K except for McGentrix and BiPolarBear and they're so busy screaming at each other that I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Can I come in and have a drink with you?"

"C'mon in, Kickster", I said.

We sat at the table for a bit, talking about sports and the price of corn. I started reaching for another quart of Jack Daniels and noticed Bert's head popping up from behind the National Geographics. I motioned with my eyes for him to get down, and then I glanced at Kicky, hoping he hadn't seen Bert, but he was staring intently at my camera and hadn't noticed the gibbon.

"Where'd you get the camera, Gus? Looks pretty nice."

"Yeah, I like it. Hey! Why don't you let me take a few pictures of you, Kicky?"

"Sure, Gus..... go ahead."

So I spent about five minutes taking pictures of Kicky. At that point I noticed Kicky was getting pretty damn drunk and I began to devise a plot.

"Hey, Kicky, how about if we get a few shots of you in the nude, in the bathtub, as you fondle your penis?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Gus? For what?"

"They'd make nice Christmas cards for you to send to Paula, littlek, Dag, Beth, and some of the other women over at A2K."

Kicky rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, "Excellent plan, Gus. Let's get this thing started."

The tub was already filled since, in order to save on my water bill, I only change the water during months starting with S. kicky stripped down and lowered himself into the brown, stagnant water.

Seconds after he slipped into the warm embrace of the water, he passed out. I turned around and shouted, "Bert! Ferderko! Get in here.'

The gibbons raced into the room, chattering like crazed, well.... gibbons.
I explained what I wanted them to do, and for the next hour and a half we took compromising photos of Kicky. In one Ferderko is sitting on Kicky's head while Bert is.... I can't talk about it. How could I have done such a thing?

But now it's too late to undo the damage. The friggin' photos are all over the internet. The Kicky-Gibbon tapes have now surpassed Tommy-Pamela in sales.

Let's just hope Kicky doesn't find about about this.

He'll be pissed if he does.