"Not right now, Freddie. I gonna talk wid him. Hey, you! Chongo Chimp, Chief Chump! This here's Chicago, not Cheboygan or Churchill, an' here youse is gonna do what you're told, see?"
Chongo breathed a bit easier. His head still felt like a hundred drills were intruding into his skull, but he could still feel that the switchblade he carried in his boot was still there. Good. He could even things up a bit, if he could get to it.
"Hey, you! Chongo Chimp, Champ Chump! You gonna do what you're told, or are we gonna hafta let you visit the aquarium?"
Chongo groaned. Buy some more time.
The water hit him like a bucket of ice water, which is what it was. A bucket of ice water. The ice was still in it. It dribbled down into his pants, soaking his shorts. Damn, he thought, they're gonna ride up and be uncomfortable all day.
"Drag him up so I can look 'im in the face. I know he's awake now."
Ungentle hands, hairy hands, baboon hands, jerked him up and onto a chair.
He was the ugliest ape Chongo had ever seen. A scar ran from his right forehead across his face to a midpoint just under his left eye and them doubled back to his right chin, then doubled back again and disappeared into his shirt.
Chongo figured it went right on down to his toes. He wondered idly if there was a matching set on his back.