The harvest moon shone bright in the Hollywood sky, illuminating the shattered dreams and stained casting couches below. I was back from tour and more tired than the plot of Morbius. As I settled in for a solitary evening of Netflicking and Green-Cheffing, I took a few too many puffs of the 'ol Green Unicorn Kush. As my mind raced and the synapses in my brain accelerated to the point of near-insanity, I retired to the safety of my bedroom, with only my iPhone in hand. As luck would have it, whilst researching monkey pox, my sausage fingers mistakenly typed in "Monkey Tok", whereby I was transported to a magical world of pet monkeys consuming grapes, bananas, and even watermelon. I was bathed in a level of cuteness that would make a teddy bear implode in a symphony of blood-soaked sweetness. 'Tis the world of Monkey TikTok, my friends, and it is a miracle salve for the many wounds that ail us.
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