I no longer have need for even one monkey let alone a thousand of them. Here are a countably infinite number of writing machines. It's been a big problem for me. Eat the galaxy, sure. Anything you like. Here is a symbol representing an unknown number of parallel lines which you can take to the local shops and redeem for twenty percent off apes. In Vietnam I couldn't access your twenty-four inch Vizio smart TV and the stench of fear that filled the jungle was so palpable, so thick, that I thought "surely our position will be given away and surely we will all be shot at last. I cannot live in this submarine by myself."
Here are a countably infinite number of monkeys. Here are my automatic writings. He eats the library of Babel but I am still not satisfied. It creeps up in the daylight, the terrible datum. Two times now I have heard it hammering down on the roof. I know it doesn't phase you; the horrible CDs, church nights, skinless salmon fillets, florescence, the groaning from the poles, from the east and west. The sound of tearing felt on a pool table. A stopped clock as adjusted for daylight savings time. Here are my extended universe Hamlet fanfictions. Here are the dragons.
