Cammie, the least believable part of your story is that you have a friend named “Frazier”

monkeys are the devil. Once upon a time, my friend Frazier had a new prosthetic leg post Iraq. He was learning to use it and I was on call in case of falls/emergencies/evil monkeys. In his building lived a tiny evil monkey who climbed up the outside via tree (because...monkey) came in the open third floor window and stole it. While Frazier's in the shower. I got a call about a locked room stolen leg mystery. That little s****. was responsible for all the fuckwittery that went down within a two block radius but his little old lady owner would cry and the monkey would escape certain death. there I am, a grown up, searching the creepy and clearly haunted 4th floor for a leg. that dickweasel monkey shoved his head through the stair rails (on a dark haunted landing) and screamed in my face. I almost became the notorious monkey murderer of Louisville KY. And Grandma monkey owner is tearfully yelling at me from the second floor landing "Don't kill Norman! Please! he is a good monkey."

I swear! his name is Frazier Douglas! His maw is scots