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My Friends
by Robert Service

The man above was a murderer, the man below was a thief
And I lay there in the bunk between them, ailing beyond belief.
A weary armful of skin and bone, wasted with pain and grief.

My feet were frozen, and the lifeless toes were purple and green and gray;
The little flesh that clung to my bones, you could punch it in holes like clay;
The skin on my gums was a sullen black, and slowly peeling away.

I was sure enough in a dreadful fix, and often I wondered why
They did not take the chance that was left, and leave me alone to die,
Or finish me off with a dose of dope�So utterly lost was I.

But no; they brewed me the green-spruce tea, and nursed me there like a child.
And the homicide he was good to me, and bathed my sores and smiled.
And the thief, he starved so that I might be fed, and his eyes were kind and mild.

Yet they were woefully wicked men, and often a night in pain
I heard the murderer speak of his deed and dream it over again;
I heard the poor thief sorrowing for the dead self he had slain.

I�ll never forget the bitter dawn so evil, askew and gray,
When they wrapped me round in the skins of beasts and they bore me to a sleigh.
And we started out with the nearest post a hundred miles away.

I�ll never forget the trail they broke, with it�s tense, unuttered woe;
And the crunch, crunch, crunch as their snowshoes sank though the crust of the hollow snow.
And my breath would fail, and ever beat of my heart was like a blow.

And oftentimes I would die the death, yet to wake up to live anew;
The sun would be ablaze on the waste, and the sky a blighting blue;
And the tears would rise in my snow-blind eyes and furrow my cheeks like dew.

And the camps we made when their strength outplayed and the day was pinched and wan;
And oh, the joy of that blessed halt, and how I did dread the dawn,
And oh how I hated the weary men who rose and dragged me on.

And oh, how I begged to rest, to rest � the snow was so sweet a shroud.
And oh, how I cried when they urged me on, cried and cursed them aloud;
Yet on they strained, all rocked and pained, and sorely their backs were bowed

And then it was all like a lurid dream, and I prayed for a swift release
From the ruthless ones who would not leave me to die alone in peace;
Till I wakened up and I found myself at the post of the mounted police.

And there was my friend the murderer, and there was my friend the thief,
With bracelets of steel around their wrists and wicked beyond belief:
But when they come to God�s judgment seat � may I be allowed the brief.

The Body
by Stephen King

The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out.
But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to whatever your secret heart is buried,like landmarks to a treasure that your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly, only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When a secret stays locked up within, not for a want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear.

God I like Monkeys

I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought this was odd since they are normally a couple thousand a piece. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I bought 200 of them.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of them drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals.

I laughed.

They punched me in the genitals.

I stopped laughing.

When I got home, I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall.

Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into it's third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive:

They all died.

No apparent reason.

They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later.

God
Damn
Cheap
Monkeys!

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet.

It didn't work...It got stuck.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.

I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals.

That worked for a while, that is, until they began to decompose...It started to smell real bad.

I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn't want to call a plumber. I was too embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds.

I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't go bad.

I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed, and the odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom.

So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them away, but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates.

I told him I had a wet one.
He couldn't take it either.
I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution: I gave them out as Christmas gifts.

My friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying.

Ingrates.
So I punched them in the genitals.
God, I like monkeys.