by Matt Inman of The Oatmeal
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Oh, Party Gorilla! How we love you. Tuesday it was hanging with my buds, nothing to do.
So without further ado, we busted out the gorilla phone, waited for the gorilla tone, and called you
Your party mood came to bith, and you tore ass from the ends of the earth.
You landed on our lawn were we partied and partied until long after dawn.
[Soldier] Oh, Battle Gorilla! We're losing this fight. We got charlie all over our bloodied, battered soldiers. So we're calling in a gorilla strike.
And of course, you showed! You roared right in. What horror you bestowed. A magnificent portrait of slaughter, death, and sin.
You won the war and quenched our fears, then made us the most DELIGHTFUL necklaces from human ears.
Oh, Sexy Gorilla! Dating is tiresome
[Bottom of the Barrel Singles; Lonely Cindy: I'm ready to fart out some babies!; Age 32; Location far away; Body type: nothing like her photo]
Flirting is moot.
So we lit the Gorilla Signal! And you came bearing a most joyous loot!
Under each arm: A bag of expensive, saucy prostitutes!
Oh, Toilet Gorilla, we do love you. We most certainly do, stuck on the john, with little to do.
And so you came. You brought the party, banjo, and three marvelous baboons! And then sung us a raging party tune! (While we dropped off a stubborn little poo)
Oh, Bender Gorilla! 146 hours of gorilla party we're exhausted, hung over and sleep is long overdue.
Please, Bender Gorilla: We've got internal bleeding, compound fractures and brain damage, too. When it comes to partying, we simply cannot keep up with you.
Oh, Galactic Gorilla! If humans evolved from monkeys, then God evolved from you. A gallon of neutron star collected from dead galaxies afar would weigh as much as the atlantic ocean. (This part is true. Neutron stars are the result of an entire star collapsing to an area the size of Los Angeles, which makes it insanely dense.) And in one swift motion you drank not one, but two shots of that neutron star potion. Just to show us how big your balls are.
Oh, Party Gorilla! It's no lie, in a few billion years our little sun will die. And, like shrieking carbon sausages, every single one of us will fry.
But not you, Party Gorilla. While the world is burning, you'll be partying from afar donning a party hat, party pants, and magnificent crowbar, dealing out rage, celebration, and slaughter, partying far, far away on some distant, glowing quasar.
The End. Written & drawn by The Oatmeal.