Who want's prune juice?

Blaine opened up the deep freezer. “Hey Artie, what’s with all the turds?”
“Don’t eat them,” said Artie “They’re for my scatology class.”
“So you’re keeping that class, I thought the teacher was a dick?”
“He is, but I got a B on the midterm. He loved my gibbon shit story.”
“When you were at the animal park?”
“No. When I lived in Santa Barbara my friend and I got stoned and snuck into Michael Jackson’s zoo. All the cages were opened so we went in with the gibbons and started eating their bananna oatmeal mash. I sparked up another doobie and the gibbons attacked my weed and climbed up to the top of the fake tree with it. They ate the snowcone and then started screaming. The groundskeeper ran out and sprayed them with water and they started shitting. There were shit sprays shooting everywhere. My buddy got a log dropped into his backpack. We tried to get out of there but the groundskeeper was still there. I started piling wood chips over myself to protect from the shit. Eventually the gibbons calmed down and the groundskeeper took off. We moved toward the exit but the gibbons blocked it. They puffed out their chests and jumped up and down with boners. I was sure they were gonna try to cornhole me so I dropped into a fetal position and stuffed a book down my pants. The big gibbon approached and I closed my eyes, but he ripped my backpack off and grabbed the bag of weed out and climbed up to the top of the cage again. Relieved, I stood up to take off but I noticed that he wasn’t smoking it yet. I pulled out my pocket bong and a lighter and threw them up to him. The other gibbons let us pass through the door and we got the fuk out of there. When we got back, my buddy’s backpack was filled to the brim with gibbon shit. He threw out the backpack, but I sure wish I had it for my scat collection. It probably would have guaranteed me an A. Or at least a B+.”
“Oh yeah. That story.”

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