The other day, without warning, a package arrived on my desk at work. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know who left it. And, most ominously, I don’t know what it means.

As you can clearly see from the photographic evidence above, the offending package is a barrel of monkeys. This is not my barrel of monkeys. I did not leave it there on my desk. So who did? And what are they trying to tell me?

Perhaps it’s meant to say, here, Erik, have a barrel of monkeys. Or maybe it’s a warning of forthcoming violent reprisal from the Monkey Mafia. I knew I never should’ve taken those bananas from them. I’m afraid to open the barrel. It may be filled with tiny sawed-off monkey heads.

I give up, world. What are you trying to tell me? Why have you given me this barrel of monkeys?