First Testimonial:
From my point of view, if you had told me when I woke up on October 13, 2015 that I would hire animals, specifically former zoo-captive macaques, to clean my two story walk-up, I would have been offended. My apartment is usually quite presentable.
However, my parents-in-law called around 10 that morning to say that they were visiting to sell their collection of Star Trek: The Next Generation action figures to a guy named Gerald that they met on Craigslist. They were going to meet Gerald near a bakery that I had never heard of, but my father was killed when a tub of flaky croissants overturned into the sunroof of his Jeep Cherokee in ’97, so I have assiduously avoided pastries ever since out of respect and fear.
As I looked around my room that day, I noticed that some things were askew (pots, sinkware, curtain rods), and that I had a lot of currency just sitting around from my own hobby of pecuniary origami, whereby I craft delightful representations of former and current federal reserve board members’ likenesses out of United States currency. Thus, a traditional housekeeping service wouldn’t do; my fear of theft is quite acute, on account of the origami and the reality that I, myself, was stolen in ’97 by my father’s hired housekeepers for lack of payment, because he had the tendency to joyride in his Cherokee rather than work.
I googled housekeeping robots, and found that Japan leads the market in robotic helpers, but also that I don’t live in Japan and haven’t paid the electric bill in some time so a robot wouldn’t get very far, either. Anyway, I came across primaids.com on probably the fourth page of google’s results. There wasn’t any way to contact the owner or arrange for services, so I left a comment on the website with a secret code that I learned while I was kidnapped that alerted others to my need for help. This code, so you know, is “SOS” and my address. Not “my address”, typed out, but your address, as a variable that corresponds to where you live or need vital services.
After about six minutes, the proprietor contacted me back via another comment and arranged for his services, via what I would come to find out is delivered via the Cage Cart (r). About an hour later, the Cart comes rolling up to my house, and out comes around five macaques, four of which are pictured above; I don’t recognize the skeezy one in the back with the 100-yard dead eye stare. Once inside, the macaques ignored my origami, but brushed off all of the visible surfaces in my house with a feather stick, cleaned my toilets with both a wire brush and at times with their tongues, and then over about fifteen minutes, savagely beat the smallest and weirdest macaque with a broom they found in my closet containing my bowling trophies. After the beating, the two largest primates dutifully cleaned the blood and hair off the floor, then went to my door and kind of hooted to be let out.
I opened the door for them, wished them all well (except for the small one, he/she was listless during the cleaning process and certainly after the beating), and closed the door, satisfied with the services provided. There was no real need, though, because the TNG meetup arranged between my in laws and Gerald was canceled at the last minute because my in-laws revealed that they had no action figures at all via text message and simply wanted to meet Gerald. You can say I was a satisfied customer.
Second Testimonial:
What is this website? It has been sending me spam email since 2012, without relent. I live in Munich and do not know what a cage cart is or why I would want one.”
