Floating Grease Chronicles: Chapter of the Monkey

Monkeys in winter, feast on the seals' raw flesh, and soak in a bathtub for sulfur baths. Oil seeping from the petrified whale remains, paints the moonless pitch-black sky. That beloved asphalt, can build waterproof houses. Monkeys in winter chorus atop power poles, singing the trendiest beats from cosmic radio, mocking those rustic frogs. They say they'll soon grow wings, soaring freer than falcons in the azure sky. Then the frogs will shed only tears of regret, becoming their cheapest joke seasoning. So the monkeys laughed until they cried, yet these tears brought no moon.