The Day Deacon Bill Performed a Monkey Hysterectomy

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Deacon Bill never passed up a senior adult trip.  On one occasion, everyone had spent a fine day with my wife and I touring Colonial Williamsburg.  On the drive home, they opened their shopping bags to reveal scented candles, purple and red hats, boxes of fudge, and one stuffed monkey.  The monkey whistled loudly each time his motion sensor was activated.  For ten minutes, the ladies hooted with glee as the monkey made whistling passes at them.  Finally, they asked its owner to put the toy away, thinking its dark bag would stop the whistling.  However, the van’s shocks weren’t working too well, and with every bump, the monkey shook and the wolf calling continued.  It soon went from being really funny to extremely annoying.

“Pass me that monkey,” said Deacon Bill as he pulled out his pocketknife.

“Don’t break it,” the owner cried.  “It’s for my granddaughter.”

“I won’t,” he replied as he grabbed the monkey viciously.

A moment later, the whistling ceased.  A hush fell over the van as Deacon Bill closed his pocket knife.

“Did you kill it?” I asked.

“No,” said Deacon bill, holding up the battery for everyone to see, but I did give that monkey a hysterectomy!”

I took a deep breath, expecting negative comments from these prim and proper Virginia ladies.  After a brief pause, the ladies roared with laughter and I sighed with relief.

When we finally pulled back into the church parking lot, Deacon Bill patted my shoulder and said, “Son, in ministry you have to be prepared for anything.”

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Disclaimer:  No stuffed monkeys were harmed in the writing of this blogpost

 

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