I stole a towel animal and I am not sorry

Every night the steward made a towel animal. Night five was a towel monkey. It was perfect. The way the ears were folded, the little sunglasses propped on its face, the jaunty angle. I could not let it be disassembled. I carefully placed towel monkey into my suitcase between layers of clothing. I did not unfold it. I transported it home across two flights and a three-hour drive. Towel monkey now sits on a shelf in my home office. My coworkers think I am insane. I regret nothing. I did leave a generous tip for the steward and a note that said 'the monkey found a good home.' I like to think he understood. If Royal Caribbean reads this: I will pay for the towel. Name your price. Towel monkey stays.