The Hemophiliac Peanut Vendor

Now a vendor comes moseying through the audience, offering bags of peanuts for money . . . I pull out a crisp ten-dollar bill and hand it to him. My bill gives the man a paper-cut: blood begins flowing. 

“Help, Tertz! fetch a bandage — this peanut vendor is bleeding everywhere!”

“OK, sir, here you go,” says the peanut vendor: “one bag of honey-roasteds.”

“Mmm, these are good!” I say, tasting a couple.

Tertz the monkey chirps hup, hup, hup.

The peanut vendor then turns to continue vending his peanuts to the crowd, but he collapses from loss of blood and expires at our feet.

Tertz the monkey shouts hep, hep, hep.