My new roommate and I are getting along swimmingly. I tell him to do stuff, and he does it. That is all that is necessary to make me happy. I like to shout at him, “Attic Monkey, put this in the attic!” He obliges and I hurl a banana at his head.
I’ve found other useful uses for him as well, Dish Monkey, Car Wash Monkey, Vacuum Monkey – the list goes on and on. I find anything that I want done, I add Monkey to it and it makes it sound less harsh when I am yelling at him from across the room.
Last week I got sick and without even asking Attic Monkey went to the store and got me some apple juice. Often times Attic Monkey has the dishes done or my laundry folded when I get home from work or a night out on the town.
Attic Monkey is also quite entertaining, he can sing and he rents movies and so I can yell out, “Dance Monkey, or Movie Monkey!!!” And be entertained instantly. All of this and he pays me to live there, it’s awesome. Right now Attic Monkey is on a diet and so I haven’t berated him into cooking me dinners yet and making me frozen banana margaritas, but that diet of his ends this week and so I’ll be shouting, “Dinner Monkey, make me a burrito!” any day now.