monkey pants

there's a monkey in my pants. sometimes, in the middle of the night, he belches, soiling my sheets. a whirlwind monkey with a mind of his own. i've tried to speak to him, but he won't pay attention. other clowns wish they had my monkey, but that is because they don't understand all the attention my monkey demands. when he speaks, he says he wants to be a gorilla and growls hideously, followed by shrieking at levels making dogs howl. some people prefer ants in their pants, but the grass is not always greener; i'll stick to my monkey.