So you wonder, What happened to Chongo? What happened to George? What happened to Jake?

Jake was in a very bad mental state when they took him to the nut house. The smell had been trapped in his mustache, which I feel obliged to point out, is directly under his nose for about 36 hours until a male nurse, a 6'6", 325 pound former Michigan State defensive lineman, pulled off the mask and fainted dead away.

The human mind's defenses are many and wondrous. Jake had managed to survive by convincing himself that he actually liked that smell. While in the asylum he spends his days watching tivo's of Ape week and reading about Chimpanzee feeding habits and carefully restricting himself to the same foods, and every morning his wakes up, walks to the corner of his padded cell, poohs into his own hand and smells the result. But he never gets it quite right. Because he is not a chimpanzee you ask? No not entirely.

The staff knows a lot about Chongo. This was the closest nuthouse on the ambulance route. At one point, 2 floors of the south wing were dedicated to the "Chongoids" as they called them. You see every one who comes into close contact with Chongo becomes a little bit nuts. But those who have to put up with his shit? Full bleeding bonkers!!

Every night all up and down the corridor the calls would ring out. "What died in there?" "Who died in there?" "Lord Almighty save us from that stench!!"

Yes the staff knew what gave Chongo's emissions that extra zing. But they had more sense than to tell Jake.

George the Gentleman can be seen every Tuesday night at Cameron's pub in Fiddler's Green hosting the "Bill Shatner Impersonator Night." There they all are in their tight yellow tee shirts over pot bellies, "singing" MacArthur Park. No one ever shows up but George and the counterfeit Bills. But they don't seem to mind.


The authorities were at a loss as to what to do with Chongo. The law couldn't touch him. They couldn't put him in the nut house with humans. He couldn't make a living, especially wearing human clothing.

Then one day they called me. "Mr Allen." they said.
"Call me Woody." I said.
"Woody you are a creative guy. We have this situation...."

Chongo seems pretty happy in his own exhibit at the Bronx zoo. He doesn't need a lot to stay happy. Healthy food warm place to stay. A Hotel quality toilet and bidet. He likes seeing the visitors, especially the dames.   We gave him an iPad so he could go online and keep in touch with his old friends. Zoo visitors see him using it. They think it is cute. If they knew he was ranting about American politics and Apes rights, I wonder would they throw him so many cigarettes. Once a week, I go there dressed in my Che fatigues and beret and toss him a Cuban cigar.

I worry about him though when he goes online and pretends to be an imaginary mouth harp playing folk singer from Gorillia, Canada.

But what makes him happiest of all is that every Tuesday a keeper goes across the street to a vendor and gets him a great big nitrate laden, bacon chili cheeze dog with extra onion, a side of sauerkraut and two pickled eggs, as long as on the following day he plugs in the air fresheners, lights a candle and flushes twice.