Ask Frank the Monkey

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Guess who's coming to dinner?

I'll tell you who's not coming to dinner: anyone you could stand to be in the room with without your eyeballs haemmorraging.

Frank the Monkey, is, of course, coming to dinner.

Get a string and get it nice and tidy, cause you'll need it to measure the eons of pain about to ensue. One end goes in your intestine, the other end goes out into the years to come.

Dinner in a room involving Frank the Monkey's presence, is just a lobby on the way to hell. They'll find you in an attic someday, trying to recombinate yourself from the blood of your estranged younger brother.

Guess who's going to be dinner?
 
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