Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)

Subject: BS: Chongo Chimp, Private Ape (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 19 Dec 03 - 10:45 PM

It was one of those crummy Chicago nights you can only appreciate through the haze of a Cuban cigar and the last dregs of a 40 ounce bottle of scotch. The rain was spitting from a leaden sky outside, just like it had been doing for what seemed like a month of Mondays. "I hate this goddamn city," growled Chongo. He could taste rank, overripe bananas calling wordlessly from somewhere deep in his monkey gut. They were contraband bananas smuggled out of El Salvador by Chachi...that lowlife Sicilian spidermonkey with the cast in his right eye where he'd taken a shot from a forty-five in the paws of some hardass gorilla on the East Side. Chachi owed him one, and the bananas were only the first installment.

The more Chongo thought about it, the less he liked it. He could smell trouble like the stink of a ripe durian, like the stale scent of a dirty old orangutan who's pumped way too much iron in some sweaty 13th Street boxing club. Trouble. He could taste it.

Chongo knocked back the last slug of whisky, and eyed his empty glass with disgust. In it he saw the iron jaw and chiseled features of a chimpanzee almost in his prime. Hell, it seemed like only yesterday he'd been in his prime, scaling walls and swinging off lamposts like Nadia Comenici. Now he could detect creeping little signs of age, in the graying around his muzzle, in the red that was shot carelessly around the pupils of his eyes. Those eyes...they'd seen sights most people are spared, sights that would make a grown man cry and make a leopard turn in his spots and get himself declawed for life. What the hell. He could take it. That was the job of a private chimp, wasn't it? Go where no one else wants to go, climb what no one else wants to climb, do what no one else in their right mind would want to do, all for a few more lousy bucks, a kiss from a classy dame, or another bottle of whisky. Chongo didn't drink gin. Gin was for jerks and losers.

When he saw the shadow cross the hallway, he reached for his gat which was nestled cold and ready in its shoulder holster. Safety never on. This could be the trouble he'd been expecting...or was it opportunity knocking on his door? From the sound of the knock it was a lightweight opportunity. "It ain't locked!" he barked, and waited.

The door opened, cautiously, and there she stood. A dame. Just like the last time. Why did all the dames in this dead end town come to Chongo Chimp when they had a problem they couldn't solve? She was blonde and good looking, if a little cold. She reminded him of that actress, what the hell was her name? Nicole Kidman. Yeah. If you were half in the bag and the light was dim enough, you might almost think she was Nicole Kidman. Something about her eyes and cheekbones.

"Mr. Chimp? My name is Betty Frizzell..." (Shit, might've known it wasn't Nicole Kidman!)

"C'mon right in...Miss Frizzell. Sit down. Drink?" Chongo could remember a thousand times he must've said those very lines, apart from the name "Frizzell", that is. Repetition can drive a man mad after awhile, and it doesn't do a chimp much good either.

"Actually, it's Mrs Frizzell," she said, and accepted gratefully as Chongo poured her a stiff shot of Jamaican rum.

"Okay, Mrs Frizzell, I think I get the picture. You wouldn't be here about Mr Frizzell, would you?" He could hear it coming. Mr Frizzell was staying out late and making up stories about working overtime, but actually was banging his secretary, Ramona, and Betty wanted him to climb up the side of a 34 story office building or maybe a 300 foot tall greased poplar tree and photograph the two of them, clutched in a torrid embrace...

"How did you know," she gasped. "Yes, it's about my husband, Lenny Frizzell..." and she burst into tears. "I think he's been murdered!"

* * * * *

(basic premise: Another riveting episode in the life of chimpanzee private eye, Chongo Chimp, in Chicago, circa 1940 except for the Nicole Kidman reference which is a wild card for the benefit of contemporary readers. The city is mostly inhabited by ordinary human beings, like usual, but also has a lively subculture of clothed, talking apes and monkeys of all varieties, many of whom are engaged in the seamy side of life. It's Mike Hammer, with a simian twist. This thread is an attempt at presenting a gift of enjoyment to Frank "Monkey Boy" Cho, who writes the comic Liberty Meadows, and regularly portrays himself as a clothed chimp in his own comic, which is the greatest comic in the world, IMO.) Mudcate maniacs, don't fail me now...

Subject: RE: BS: Chongo Chimp, Private Ape (story)
From: GUEST,the toiling scribe
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 11:42 AM

People! They were the most self-centered, self-satisfied creatures on the face of the Earth. They didn't give a damn about each other, they didn't give a damn about this decaying city they had built around themselves and their tawdry dreams, they gave less than a damn about story threads that other people start, and they gave less than a tinker's damn for a hardworking chimp like Chongo...until they needed him. Then it was, "Oh, please, you've got to help me, Mr. Chimp...

("Just call me Chongo...kid.")

But Chongo had to admit he felt more than a flicker of sympathy for this dame, even if she was only some part time steno named Betty Frizzell, and not Nicole Kidman after all. She had to have been desperate to come down here at this hour in the morning, and her fears about her husband were probably justified.

Betty had spilled her guts there in Chongo's office, and with every word it became more and more clear that something unusual had happened to Lenny Frizzell. Turns out Lenny was the model husband. Always attentive and loving. Never stayed out late. Never forget his wife's birthday or their anniversary. Faithful and devoted for these past seven years, Lenny had led a quiet life as a self-employed jewellry engraver over in a little shop on 15th Avenue. Chongo remembered seeing the shop one time, but he'd never gone in.

Well, yesterday evening something had changed in Lenny's life. Somethin big. When he came home, 3 hours later than usual, he was pale and distracted. He had a small package, wrapped in white paper, the kind you might wrap around a gift for your favourite girl, but he wouldn't tell Betty what was in there. She could see he was really upset, and tried to draw him out, but he wouldn't...or couldn't say much. The only thing he did said that gave her any clue was, "I should never have dealt with those baboons!" Then he clammed up and wouldn't say another word about it, except that he had to go out again and make a "delivery". Betty protested. It was 11 pm, and she had no idea where he was going, but Lenny insisted, with the frantic desperation of a man in the final stages of panic. She wept and pleaded, but it did no good. Lenny tore himself from her arms and disappeared out into the black Chicago night...and never returned.

"Did he leave anything behind, a name, an address..." growled Chongo, chewing on his stogie.

"Yes!" blurted Betty. "I found this on the pavement outside the front door."

It was a business card. A fancy card, on good paper. It read: "The Bundolo Club". On the back of the card was scrawled a single word: "persimmons"

Chongo knew about the Bundolo Club. It was a gathering place for some of the toughest, meanest, lowest, rottenest, smelliest gorillas, baboons, and chimps-gone-wrong to ever pollute mainstreet USA. The kind who would sell their own mommas to a travelling circus and try to pawn their dad's skull off to the Smithsonian as a long lost specimen of Piltdown Man or the "missing link". The Bundolo Club was a place you didn't go without a loaded gat and way too much nerve...or a really strong death wish.

And he knew what "bundolo" means. It's common street-ape patois, and it means "kill".

Subject: RE: BS: Chongo Chimp, Private Ape (story)
From: Jack the Sailor
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 12:19 PM

Small and lithe but decidedly chimplike in all the right places, there she was on the stage, a bumpin' and a grindin', hangin' on to the pole with her feet and thrusting her oversized genetalia into the face of every two bit ape in the place.
Chongo couldn't hide his disgust when she greeted him by rubbing her crotch on his. But his lust was even harder to conceal. Bonobos had that effect on him, after all, he was only primate.

"Good to see you again Congie." she purred while running her feetfingers through his leg hair. "No flies on you." she said.... disappontedly. "Are you getting some other dame to do your grooming?"

"Zelda, You're a swell dame. But I need some information. Has this man been in here lately?" He thrusts a pair of Lenny's shorts under her nose.

"Sniff sniff, Yeah, he was here, he didn't spend much time looking at the stage. I thought I saw a banana hin his pocket, but he musta been savin' it for his wife. But I did see him in a booth in the back, talking to that guy."

Chongo's eyes went to the left and his jaw went south as he saw his old nemisis, Miguel A. Gorilla!

All of a sundden, as if by devine coincidence, the band plays suspenseful music.
Dun da! Dun Dun Da!!!
Then the lights dim like a fade in a moving picture, a precursor to a new scene.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 03:55 PM

He awoke from the enforced sleep, his head throbbing from where the blackjack had raised a knot the size of a softball.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke, like the red haze that hung over Gary and was the reason he didn't go there anymore. If ya want rust, he thought, breath a car.

He couldn't feel his gat. He usually carried it in a crotch holster, and it wasn't there now. He hoped he could get it back; Colt wasn't making .38s for the Home Front these days.

"He's awake, Boss," said a guttural voice from above his head. "Should I put him back ta sleep?"

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 04:56 PM

More, more!

Scratching himself in several strategic places,
Charley Noble

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 06:06 PM

Thread title changed per request from Little Hawk. I just typed what he said. I had nothing to do with it, and disavow any responsibility for that groaner of a pun... Perhapps I should have changed the title to "Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (sorry)."
Although I have to admit I like Little Hawk's new title.
-Joe Offer-

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 10:37 PM

"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.

But he knew who it was.

"Scarface?" Chongo questioned.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 11:26 PM

Thanks, Joe! "Primate Eye" is a great pun, I think, and it's a Little Hawk original (as far as I know). I oughta copyright it! :-)

Now who the heck is "Gary"? Oh...Gary, Indiana, right? Okay.

So:

Chongo knew that voice. It was Kerchak. Kerchak was the chief enforcer and hatchet ape of the East Side Gorillas, meanest mob in the lower East side. Those bums had been greasing grapevines and beating the Dum-Dum since longer than anyone could remember, and they were capable of anything...except giving a sucker an even break. They would happily break his legs for him, though.

Despite the throbbing in his little pre-Cambrian monkey skull, Chongo was now fully alert. He didn't show it, though, but acted like he was still half-stunned and in shock.

"Naw...let the little snoop come around," sneered an even deeper voice than Kerchak's. "We gotta pump this bird till he sings."

Chongo looked up through half-closed eyes that felt as dry and tired as yesterday's old castoff bacon rind. He was looking straight at the ugliest, fattest, scaliest, most disgusting bull orangutan he had ever seen, dressed in a pinstripe suit and a gold vest, with a pocket watch dangling from a diamond chain. He bore an astonishing resemblance to Burl Ives in "The Big Country". Who was this ape? And what was he doing with the East Side Gorillas, who never worked with anyone but gorillas?

"You don't know me, do ya...shrimp?" said the Orang, as a gorilla flunkie lit a fresh cigar for his fat lips to suck on. "Well, you're gonna know me."

Chongo wasn't about to dispute that. He gingerly got to his feet, and looked around. The room was lousy with gorillas. Seven of them. All big, black, hairy, and well-combed. The East Side boys all wore pompadours for some reason, and only used Wildroot Cream Oil.

"So...shrimp...this can be easy or it can be hard. Whaddya want," asked the Orang in an oily voice.

"He wants 'hard', dontcha, Chongo?" grinned Kerchak.

"Depends," said Chongo. "It would be easier if I knew what you guys wanted first."

Kerchak whacked Chongo hard across the muzzle, but the chimp barely flinched. "Don't get lippy with the boss!" snarled Kerchak. "I'm just gettin' started, banana-boy."

"I'll tell you just what I want, Mr Chongo-the-shrimp Limp-Chimp..." (Oh, this big, orange bastard was a real wit, all right...)

"I wanta know why you're workin' for Betty Frizzell, and when you're gonna stop. I wanta know whether you want a pint size pine box or just a set of concrete shoes. I wanta know where your mother lives, so we can send her your lips...after we send her your ears. I wanta know how many different ways a chimp can scream "uncle" while we pull off his toenails and make him eat them."

This guy wanted a lot. That was clear.

"There's just one reason I'm working for Betty Frizzel," replied Chongo evenly, clenching his lower abdominal muscles as he got ready. Just one quick squeeze now...

"She hired me, asshole."

As his words hung in the silent room for the briefest moment, Chongo's sphincter clenched and released a black, spherical object that had been cleverly concealed up his rectum...it was a stun grenade! He pitched it straight into the gaping, fat face of the big boss organgutan and simultaneously delivered a backwards kick into Kerchak's groin that drove the gorilla's family jewels about a foot in the general direction of his lower occipital lobe.

Kerchak's inchoate shriek of agony was accompanied by a blinding flash and concussion which knocked out every light bulb in the place and filled the air with acrid smoke that stung the eyes like a thousand fire ants. Chongo was low to the floor, moving fast in the sudden darkness, and he purloined Kerchak's .38 revolver from the thrashing ape's belt as the dirty mango-picker hit the floorboards like a ruptured gasbag tied to a lead balloon. The room was suddenly full of yelling, screeching, and a hail of gunfire that was directed who the hell knew where. Chongo saved his ammo. Let the silly bastards shoot at each other's gunflashes, and with a little luck they might all kill each other. "Or they might get lucky and kill me," thought Chongo. "Time to blow this joint."

It was the work of only a moment to find the door, which had not been locked. The hallway was empty, and smelled like burnt iron. Chongo made a quick dash down a short flight of stairs and out into a street he recognized. It was Anvil Street. Not a nice place. Just then a car pulled up with five gorillas crammed inside. They were goggling at the warehouse Chongo had just vacated, from which could be heard bellowing and random gunfire.

"It's the Westside Baboons!" yelled Chongo. "They're here to kill the boss! I seen 'em go in! Shoot to kill!"

"The five gorillas piled out of the car, magically producing a shitload of firepower from their jackets and the backseat, and stormed into the building...all except for the last one, the driver. He stopped and looked at Chongo suspiciously. The car was still idling behind him.

"And who the hell are you, the milkman?" he growled, moving forward menacingly.

"Read the card," deadpanned Chongo, drawing it from his pocket easily, with his right hand. His left was in his pocket, holding the .38 he'd taken off Kerchak.

The gorilla took the card, and squinted hard at the tiny lettering in the vagrant moonlight. It was engraved in old English letters that he could barely read. He squinted harder. It said: "if you can read this...you're way too f**king close!"

He swore and dropped the card and found himself looking straight down the barrel of Chongo's .38. It was trained exactly between his nasty little eyes.

"That's right, creep," said Chongo. "Drop the gat." The gorilla obeyed silently, breathing heavily. "Now back up and turn around, and start counting to nine hundred and ninety nine. Slowly, and out loud!"

"One...two...three..." Chongo picked up the gun. A .44 special. Not bad. All hell was busting loose inside that warehouse. Sounded like the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Smoke was drifting out the windows on the second floor.

"Four...five...six..." Chongo got in the car, and put her in gear. Nice car. It was an older Lincoln, black. Lots of room and snazzy running boards too. There was a tommy gun under the dash. Perfect.

"Seven...eight...nine..." A sudden slackening of gunfire in the warehouse, and a voice bellowing orders. It was that damned Orangutan. Too bad. He'd survived, apparently. Time to hit the road.

"Ten...eleven...twelve..." Chongo did a quick U-ie with the Lincoln and pointed her nose obliquely at the warehouse, with the tommy gun pointing out past the driver's side mirror.

"Thir..." The gorilla who was counting half-turned his head as he heard the car move, and at the same moment about six gun-toting apes appeared at the Anvil Street door, jostling against each other.

Perfect.

Chongo drove the pedal to the floor, swung the Lincoln's nose hard to the right, and poured a full clip from the tommy gun which atomized that driver's fedora and peppered the little knot of East Side boys that was clogging up the abandoned warehouse doorway from ass to teakettle. Hard to say who got hit and who didn't, but they all went down like a dog on a dead flounder as Chongo peeled out of Anvil Street in a cloud of powder smoke and burnt rubber.

"Nice car," he observed as he took a right on Maple Street and headed uptown. "Pity I can't keep her."

* * * *

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 11:45 PM

Holy shit, boys!! This is a job for Elliott Ness!!

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 20 Dec 03 - 11:50 PM

Whoa...Rap and I cross-posted. What the hell. The more the merrier.

I like Rap's spare and terse style. That scene cooks. We can edit the order of things later, and hold out for big bucks. Looks like the baboons are gonna have their day too. "Scarface". I like it.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 06:30 PM

Editor's note: We have been advised that in Chicago the "lower East Side" is underwater! (Glug, glug...) We have also been advised that Nadia Comenici didn't exist as a gymnast in the 1940's. Yeah? Well, I passed on those objections to Mr Chongo, and here's his reaction:

"What the hell do I care? What's the big rumpus? Don't these saps get it? This is pulp fiction. This is entertainment. What do I care if Chicago's got no lower East Side? Hell, if it's a problem, we just relocate the story to New York in the 2nd edition, right? Gimme a break..."

So, there you have it. This story makes up its own rules as it goes along, and if ya can't live with 'em don't read it. 'Nuff said.

But by all means...keep this cards and letters coming. This bloodhound ain't quittin' while the trail is still hot.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 07:51 PM

Chongo regretfully ditched the Lincoln on 24th Street after carefully wiping off all his pawprints, left the keys sitting in the ashtray, and took a cab uptown to Joey's. Chachi usually hung out at Joey's, and Chachi was a good source of information, even if he did have the character of a poisonous snake crossed with a Sicilian loan shark.

Joey's hadn't changed at all. It was still the same greasy little short order diner it had been for the last 30 years, but the coffee was strong and good, and the soup and spaghetti were the best deal in town.

"I'll have the usual, Mavis." Chongo slid into a handy booth that provided a good view of the street and front entrance. "Sure thing, Chongo." Mavis was a brassy but dependable waitress who'd worked at Joey's forever and knew her job like an alley cat knows the inside of a trash can. She was fast, sharp, and had a good sense of humour too. "She's almost simian," mused Chongo. "Wonder what she looks like out of uniform?"

He'd have been loathe to admit it, but Chongo had a thing for human females. Their general lack of body hair was disturbing, and it was further complicated by the fact that they also had more hair in certain places than most chimps do, but they made up for it with those unnaturally long and graceful legs, they generally smelled pretty good, they looked great in heels...and they were tall. Some were really tall. "Sorta like climbing a mountain," he thought. "Ya gotta do it just cos it's there..."

If Chongo had ever seen Liv Tyler, he probably would have melted right there on the spot and run down the nearest gutter like a spilled drink.

Putting aside these pleasant thoughts, Chongo got down to the business of filling his little monkey gut with a steaming order of flapjacks and bacon, and running the few facts of the Frizzell case through his mind.

Evidently, Lenny Frizzell had gotten involved in something big that was way out of his league...but why? And how? He didn't seem like the sort of guy who would be drawn into risky or shady activities...but maybe he had had no choice about it. That sort of thing could happen to little people in Chicago, specially since the Westside Baboons and the East Side Gorillas had really gotten into the rackets bigtime.

Now there was an orangutan involved too...an important one from the looks of it, cos he was commanding gorillas. Who the hell was he? Chongo searched his mind, running down the rogues gallery of faces that papered the walls of his hall of memories. There was something about that Orang that rang a faint bell, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

"EXTRA! EXTRA! Big gangland shootout on Anvil Street! Five slain! Gang wars erupt again in Chicago and Big Daddy is in town!!!" A newsmonkey was bawling out on the sidewalk.

"Big Daddy"! That was it. Big Daddy Malone. Chongo had heard of him, but only fleetingly. He was the kingpin of organized simian crime in Schenectady, a town that may not rank large in the annals of G-men, but it had its share of fast operators, hired guns, and shady apes. Big Daddy was a legend in Schenectady. Well, Schenectady must've just gotten a bit too small for him...and now he was in Chicago. Not good. This would probably mean a major shakeup or some full-scale gang wars in the Windy City.

Enough to keep a chimp busy and knee deep in Cuban cigars, if he played a careful hand, Chongo thought. Enough to get him concrete waders if he didn't.

Then he saw Chachi. Coming in the front door. Chachi saw him too, and he looked nervous, but when Chongo gestured he came over, sat down, and ordered a bottle of Schidt's Beer.

"So," said Chachi. "What's the rumpus? I hear that Big Daddy's in town."

*******

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:10 PM

"Yeah," said Chongo, playing it cool. "I heard dat too."

You did better if you lowered your IQ when you talked with Chachi.

"Yeah," said Chachi. "I hoid dat the S'ken'ty boys were getting outed from S'ken'ty by a bunch o' apes from The City. Dey're comin' inta da upstate 'cuz dey wanna have a clean road ta Canada so dey kin run down Stuff." He took a swig of the beer, a big swig. "Damn, but dat's good," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his paw.

"Stuff from Canada?" asked Chongo, sipping coffee. "What's da sense o' dat? Prohibition ended what, seven, eight years ago, din't it?"

"Nah, not booze. Meat. Tires. Stuff for the black market. Dis rationin's gonna just git worse, dey tink, an' The City apes wanna piece of the East Coast dough. So they...."

Chongo saw the movements from the corner of his eye, and on the floor before he had any concious idea of why he was doing that. Such reactions had saved his skin more than once, and if it wasn't anything, well, he could say he tripped or something.

This time it was something.

The .45 caliber slugs from the Tommy guns shattered the window and shattered bodies when they slammed into flesh like pile drivers into jelly. Two baboons jumped in through the broken window, automatics in paw, shooting anyone who showed signs of life in the head.

Then, in just few bloody seconds, they were gone.

Chongo pulled himself up.

Chachi wouldn't be telling him anything ever again. And he'd never know Mavis any better than he had, either.

A car rounded the corner on squealing tires, slowed, and a dark arm lofted a small, dark object into the ruined windows.

Chongo's last thoughts before the grenade went off where something like, "Shit, somebody really didn't like the food here!" And then the force of the blast slammed him into the wall.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:14 PM

He came too, briefly aware that someone was cutting off his clothes under a light that was too bright. But he knew, dammit, and he had to tell someone.

"Cho," he breathed. "Frank Cho."

And darkness swallowed him again.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:35 PM

Editor's note: Jay-sus, Rap! Look, man, don't kill off ALL my minor characters, eh? Where's Chongo gonna get contraband bananas now? Whew! Gotta catch my breath...

Okay...

The grenade pretty well ruined Joey's forever as a cheap but fine dining spot, and started a fire that flared up fast, fueled by a few odd gallons of deep fry grease behind the counter. The smell was awful, and it brought Chongo fully to his senses. What the hell was the ceiling doing on the floor and why was it swinging back and forth like that? Oh... It was the chandelier that was swinging, and Chongo was on it, lying on his back. "Interesting view," he thought. "Man, this thing is filthy on top!" Then the sprinklers kicked in.

It was time to make a fast exit. Chongo did his best Johhny Weismuller imitation (lo-o-o-ove those movies!), swung way back on the chandelier, yelled "Kree-gah!!!", and catapulted himself right past the flaming kitchen and through the remnants of the side window that faced on the alleyway. He landed in a pile of reeking garbage cans, did a fast roll, and came up covered in coffee grounds and old grapefruit rinds.

"Jee-SUS!!!" yelled Chongo. "This suit cost me 15 bucks!"

"You really smell bad, mister," said a little human kid as Chongo tried to shake off some of the coffee grounds and other detritus.   The kid was wearing short pants and one of those hats with the little triangles cut all around the top, and he had a crewcut.

"So do you, kid," said Chongo. "Now beat it or I'll call yer ma."

This day was definitely going from bad to worse, and it was still just beginning.

*****

Editors note: "Kree-gah" means "Look out!" or "Beware!" in street-ape patois, popularized by none other than Edgar Rice Burroughs, God rest his soul.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:37 PM

Well, don't leave us there!

Charley Noble, sipping his Chardonnay or is it the Reisling? Fortunately his gurl Friday confirms that it is the Chardonnay...

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:38 PM

Editor's note: When co-writer, Rapaire wrote "he came too", it was a misspelling, and was not intended to not denote anything sexual. He meant to write "he came to", okay? This is not a dirty book we're writin' here or anythin' like that. Okay...

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:40 PM

Editor's note to previous editor's note: Strike the 2nd use of the word "not" from the first sentence in the above Editor's note, and we are on the right track here. Geez...way too much bourbon can do that.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:43 PM

Hah! That's what YOU think!! Wait'll I give Chongo a catheter!!!

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 08:49 PM

You dirty dog. I can see where we are gonna have to rub you out at some point before this caper is in the can.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 09:01 PM

By the way, I'm emailing this stuff to Frank Cho, bit by bit as it unfolds, and probably driving him nuts.

Of course, he already is nuts. But he's good! Best cartoonist since Walt Kelly, IMO.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 09:01 PM

Chongo brushed himself off and headed down the alley away from what had once been Joe's. The sirens were starting to sing, and they weren't his song.

He took a quick look around at the corner. Nothing. He turned right, towards Michigan Avenue. He'd get there if he walked far enough, but it was too far away.

He ducked into Berghoff's. A quick lunch was in order. Colonel Thompson had spoiled his first one. And Berghoff's still made their own beer. He needed that, now.

He needed to think more than anything else.

First of all, get back to the office and pick up his other gat. The .357. A new caliber, just a few years old. Much more powerful than his trusty .38 had been; he picked it up because it could fire the same shells. He didn't like it, it kicked too much. But if there was a caper going on the size of which Chachi had hinted at he'd need that firepower and maybe more. Maybe he should pick up his sawed-off, too. And dig the Tommy gun out of mothballs.

Second, find out what Lenny's part in all this was.

Third, contact Drecker at the Police Department. Drecker was old and they kept him around because he was a master with the nightstick, didn't leave any marks and could make a prisoner sing like a canary. He'd been Chongo's teacher when Chongo had been been on the Ape Squad, before that punk had shattered his knee with his ball bat.

Fourth....

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 09:02 PM

...fourth, he was trying to remember, a name, he'd had a name.

Damn. It wouldn't come.

He took another sip of beer and finished off the sausage.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 10:55 PM

He paid, tossed down a quarter for a tip.

Better take a cab back to the office. Quicker he got heeled the better, he thought.

He whistled up a cab, gave the address, and was there in double quick time.

These fares and such were eating away his cash like acid on skin. He picked the mail out of the box, unlocked the door, walked in, flicked on the light.

Bills. Light bill, water bill, rent for this dump. He tossed them on his desk. Wait, what was that one. He pulled an official looking envelope out from the pile.

Aw, shit no.

Selective Service Board Number 4. "Mr. Chimp: Greetings from the President of the United States...."

No, hell no. He couldn't be drafted. Not with his knee. And besides, he had enough lead in him to be a bullet factory. "...to report for duty in the Armed Forces...October 4...."

Who the hell do you appeal something like this too, he wondered.

He only had a week, too.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 11:14 PM

Meanwhile, in Miami, Florida...

Seven of the eight burly apes seated around the mahogany conference table at Miami's Monkey Jungle were not very happy to be there. The eighth ape, a Gibon known as Stretch, the one responsible for calling the meeting, was not very happy either. In fact, he was downright livid and the object of his anger was the other seven apes.

"God! Whatta buncha morons!", he screamed. His particular manner of screaming was his most outstanding feature and the one which had gotten him to his current position of power within the South Florida monkey underground. Gibons aren't noted for their quiet retiring natures anyway, but Stretch had been forced into a shotgun marriage with a Red Howler monkey named Dolores and, well, after twenty years of marriage and thousands of arguments, a fair amount of Howler howl had made its way into Stretch's voice. "Do you idiots have any idea how much time and money has been put into this project? And for what? So we can see the whole thing go down the tubes on accounta some damned chump Chimp private dick in Chi-town? Who in the hell is this Chongo anyway? Shit! What was the last thing The Boss said before he left for Havana? Anybody remember? How about you Fat Freddy?"

A large, no, make that "very large" chimp looked up from the fingernail he had been carefully studying during the bulk of Stretch's remarks. "Gee, Stretch," he said in a voice that would normally have struck fear into any right-thinking Simian but which had been totally subdued by the Gibon's tirade, "We all know what The Boss said. He said that for this thing to work, it hadda be done with military precision. No leaks. Nobody outsida th' mob could know 'bout it or it'd blow up in our faces."

"That's real good, Fat Freddy," Stretch howled, "I see you have a few working brain cells. So whose job was it to keep those Baboons in Chicago in line? Huh? To make sure their sorry multi-colored asses didn't spill the beans? You, ya friggin' moron! You! So what happens? First, the damned Baboons make a side deal with a friggin' human for Chrissakes. A human! Then the human's friggin' bimbo of a wife goes to a nosey Goddamned Chimp private dick and next thing ya know we've got a major shit-storm on our hands! And it's your fault, you sorry sackashit! I really should just shoot your sorry ass and be done with ya, but, ya know what? That'd be too easy. Your ass is on a plane to Chicago in one hour. Ya unnerstan'? You go find that Chongo chump Chimp and fix his ass and I don't care how ya do it. And while yer at it, get ridda the human and his bimbo wife. And if you screw up you better just hop a ship for Africa 'cause The Boss will be hot and the ape he'll be hot at is me and I don't like bein' outta The Boss's good graces. Ya unnerstan'?"

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 21 Dec 03 - 11:18 PM

Obviously, it had to be a mistake. They weren't drafting chimps. Not yet. But it was no secret that they were beginning to gear up for possible fighting with someone...most likely Japan, but you could never tell. There were rumours. It was the waning days of September, 1940, only a year after the outbreak of war in Europe, but France had fallen only a few months back, and England was fighting desperately now for survival, battered by the German blitz. That concerned Chongo. He had relatives in London. They seemed to be holding out, though, according to the latest news, shooting down Goering's bombers in record numbers.

Japan? Chongo could see no good reason to pick a fight with them. No Japanese ape or human had ever done anything to him. Matter of fact, there didn't even seem to be any apes in Japan, aside from circuses and zoos. Hmmm. Maybe there was reason to fight over there after all. Species discrimination. Still, it seemed like a stupid thing to get into a transoceanic war over. Gangland wars were crazy, but national wars were beyond crazy, as far as Chongo was concerned.

Wearily, Chongo perused the rest of the form letter, and started drafting a terse reply, accompanied by a recent photo. Some idiot at Selective Service didn't know what the left hand was doing.

"The stuff I waste my time on..." he muttered. Meanwhile, Lenny Frizzell was probably as stiff and cold as an Alaskan hot dog on a January night, and the trail was getting cold. The $300 that Betty Frizzell had fronted him was dwindling. He had to get moving, and moving fast.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 08:00 AM

The .357 was where he'd left it, cleaned, tuned, and oiled. He loaded it; its weight in his shoulder holster felt good. He took out the sawed-off, broke it open, dropped in two shells of number 4 buckshot -- just a bad as double ought and lots more lead flyin' around when you needed it. He put it into the special pocket of his raincoat.

Yeah. A Burberry. Anyone who wanted to make something of it could kiss his chimp lips.

Now for the piece de resistance, the Tommy. The Chicago piano. The Gun That Made Chicago Run.

He opened the box. There it was.

From Cutts compensator to the buttless receiver, it was as he liked it: short, ready, and capable of heavy-duty firepower. Two straight mags and two drums: two hundred and fifty rounds of fully-jacketed lead, each damn near half an inch in diameter and traveling at 850 feet per second. Two hundred and fifty body slams, two hundred and fifty kicks with caulked logging boots.

Chimps were stronger and more flexible than people, but Chongo still prefered the front-and-rear pistol grips on his Tommy. Helped prevent barrel climb, which happened even with the Cutts.

Chongo tapped a stick mag home, worked the bolt. It locked to the rear, ready to drum out a melody of Death. He put on the safety.

He crossed the office, opened the door at the rear. Good. They hadn't repossessed his car. Yet.

He slid the Tommy and the extra mags in the special door panel he'd had Roscoe build in, before Roscoe had fried for that Kent job, down in Metropolis. Dumb bastard shoulda known better, knockin' off that old farm couple just after their four-eyed son had moved them to what passed for a big city in those parts.

He thumbed the door opener and backed out. Where to? Drive out to Cicero and see what some of them apes out there might know? Or head up to Evanston and talk to the boys up there?

Nah. Better than either. The Island. Out in Lincoln Park. Yeah. If there was any word anywhere, it'd be there.

He put the car in gear and drove off.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 11:50 AM

The DC-3 bearing Fat Freddie banked out over Lake Michigan and glided onto the tarmac of Chicago's Meigs Field. As it taxied to the terminal, Fat Freddie considered his plan of action. Frizell, Frizell's bimbo wife, that chump Chimp dick Chongo... Who to visit first? Nah! The answer was obvious. Start with the ones that created the problem. Start with the Baboons. Anyway, Freddie had a genuine aversion to doin' humans and didn't really like puttin' the squeeze on other Chimps, but Baboons were another story. Truth be told, Fat Freddie didn't like baboons at all...

The springs of the taxicab that transported Fat Freddie from Meigs to the Southside block where the Baboons held court sighed in relief as they were relieved of the load imposed by the Chimp's substantial girth. As he waddled toward what he knew to be the main entranceway into the Baboons' makeshift compound he felt the eyes of dozens of Drills and Mandrills peering at him. It made no difference. They could look all they wanted. They could even spit, scream or moon him with their bright red asses, but they didn't dare really harm him. Though currently out of favor with Stretch and The Boss his position in the hierarchy of the Simian Crime Syndicate was still high enough to afford him immunity from harm by such low-lifes. To hurt him, The Boss's envoy, would be to bring down the wrath of the entire Syndicate. Even Baboons weren't that dumb.

Freddie's knock on the compound door was greeted with a surly "Whattaya want?" from the Baboon lieutenant who thrust his head through the barely head-sized sliding opening in the door.

With a speed totally unexpected from a chimp so rotund, Freddie's hand shot out and grabbed the unfortunate baboon around the neck, pulling him through the open hatchway until his shoulders banged against the door. "I'm here to see Elmo. And don't give me any 'He's not around' crap. I know he's here and he's got some questions to answer. Now, I'm gonna let go of your scrawny neck and you're gonna open the door nice and polite like. Ya unnerstan'?"

"Yes, Mister Fat Freddie, sir," croaked the now subservient Baboon through his nearly crushed vocal cords, "I'll open the door as soon as you let me down."

Freddie released the insubordinate ape who meekly admitted him into the Baboon lair. "I'll take you right up to see Mister Elmo, sir," he mumbled without having to be asked first.

He led Fat Freddie past piles of refuse typical of the Baboon lifestyle - orange and banana peels, mango seeds, peachpits - and up a flight of stairs to where the door of Elmo's office was already opened.

A tall and well-groomed Mandrill with one gold canine stood from behind the office's large Teak desk. "Fat Freddie," he beamed as he sauntered around the desk with outstretched arms, "So good t' see ya! What brings you t' town?"

Fat Freddie responded by opening his arms to receive the Baboon's embrace, but instead of a friendly hug the huge but agile Chimp put the Baboon in a hammerlock and pushed him face down against the surface of the desk. "You know damned well what I'm here for, Elmo," he snarled in the Baboon Chief's ear, "Just couldn't leave things alone, couldja? The Boss made the plan. The plan was gonna make us all rich. But, no! You idiot Baboons had to go messin' with humans. And what did you get from the humans? Diamonds! What the hell do monkeys need with diamonds? Diamonds are for humans! Monkeys need bananas!!!!"

With that, the Chimp picked up the frightened Elmo (who had not at all been tickled by his meeting with Fat Freddie) and defenestrated him, depositing him, largely unharmed but extremely shaken, onto a pile of mango and avocado pits. It would probably have been more efficient if Fat Freddie had just shot the iridescent-assed creature, but the author's always wanted to use "defenestrate" in a story and never had the chance until now.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 12:23 PM

He left the car where he always did, under the same tree. Then up the tree, doing his branch-to-branch chimp thing. Good thing it was raining, or someone might have questioned why a chimp was swinging from tree to tree while wearing a trench coat.

He got to the fence; The Island was beyond it.

Monkey Island. Three hundred monkeys of various kinds. Howlers, Rhesus, Capuchins, whatever you could think of. Three hundred stupid, stinking, never still monkeys.

God, he hated monkeys.

But they would know. Somehow, even locked away here on Monkey Island in the middle of the Lincoln Park Zoo, they knew.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Raptor
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 01:28 PM

?

Raptor

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Raptor
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 01:30 PM

Seriously Little Hawk you need to get out more!

Why not call up that cute girl we met at the lazy-boy Store?

Raptor

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 04:03 PM

Fat Freddie walked out of Elmo's office after tossing him out the window to find the Baboon lieutenant he had nearly strangled still cowering in the corner. "So," Freddie snarled, "ya see what I did t' yer boss an' ya kin betcher neon magenta ass I'd do it t' you in a heartbeat. Now, what I wanna know is where's th' human? You know th' one I'm talkin' about. Th' jeweler guy. The one that his wife thinks is dead."

"Oh, him!" whimpered the Baboon, "He's in the basement. Elmo said t' keep 'im there until he wuz able t' run down some private dick Chimp named Chongo. Then we wuz gonna do the guy an' frame this Chongo chump fer th' job."

"Well," said Fat Freddie while lifting the baboon off the floor by his already damaged neck, "don't just sit there blabberin'! Take me to him!" The now totally terrified Baboon led Freddie down two flights of stairs into a dark underground chamber. At one end of the room was a single wooden door to which the Baboon walked while pulling a key from his pocket. He opened the door, took a quick peek inside and motioned for Fat Freddie to enter.

The room was a twelve-foot by twelve-foot cell with no furnishings but an old Army cot and a slop jar. It was lit by a single naked 60 watt bulb in an overhead socket. On the cot sat a man of indeterminate age. He may have been middle-aged or may have still been quite young, but many days with neither a razor nor a bath made the matter a bit uncertain. He looked up at the huge Chimp and Fat Freddie spoke to him.

"You must be Lenny Frizell, yeah?" Freddie asked, to which the man merely nodded an afirmative. "Well, they calls me Fat Freddie. And before ya start askin', no, I don't have a cat. I don't even like cats. In fact, I useta really like t' do mean things t' cats, but that wuz before I got this job I have now where I get t' be mean t' Baboons instead. It's lots more fun than cats. Anyway, it's good t' see yer alive, though I'm not really surprised 'cause these sorry-ass Baboons'd never knock off a human widdout someone else aroun' t' pin th' blame on. I've been sent t' try 'n straighten this mess up, so, howzabout you tell me what happened here."

Frizell looked uncertainly at Freddie but then seemed to think, "Aw hell! What've I got to lose?", relaxed, and began to tell his story.

" It all started about a month ago. I have a little jewelry store where I mostly do engraving an' repairs an' such. If it's still aroun' in fifty years I'll probably be sellin' a helluva lotta watch batteries. Anyway, one day this Rhesus comes in, says he's broke up with his girlfriend an' wants t' see if I can change th' initials on an ID bracelet. While we're talkin' he casually pulls a white envelope outta his pocket, and says, 'Ya be innersted in these?' I open it up and there's about a thousand carats of uncut diamonds. 'Naw, man,' I tell 'im, 'I'm just a small-time guy. I don't know nuthin' about sellin' bulk diamonds.' So th' Rhesus looks at me an' says, 'But you know somebody that does, doncha?' Then I remember hearin' rumors about this buncha Baboons that'll fence anything, so I tell th' guy I'll look into it. He says he'll check back with me th' next day an' leaves."

"So' that afternoon I come over to this place here an' get introduced to some guy named Elmo. Elmo says, 'Sure! Bring 'em on. We'll work it out.' Then, next day the Rhesus comes back in, leaves the diamonds and I bring 'em back over here t' Elmo after work. He's lookin' at 'em an' we're just about t' strike a deal when th' phone rings. Elmo picks it up an' starts talkin' t' some guy about boats and bills of lading and stowaway monkeys and bananas and gettin' real worked up. Then, all of a sudden he looks at me, slaps himself on the head and says, 'Holy shit! I gotta quit drinkin' so much so early. I totally forgot your human ass was sittin' there. Oh shit! This won't do! You heard everything, didn't ya?' Then he rings a bell on his desk an' two Baboon goons come in an' Elmo says, 'He's heard too much. Take 'im to the basement until we can figger out what t' do with 'im.' I been down here ever since. Ya know what's funny about th' whole thing? I don't even have any idea what th' hell they were talkin' about."

Fat Freddie took a few moments to absorb Frizell's story, then nodded and smiled down at the human. "Well," he said, "I got some good news an' some bad news. Th' good news is you probly ain't gonna die. Th' bad news is you're gonna have t' stay here in this hole until we get this situation straightened up. But I'll see that you get a wash basin an' a razor an' a change of clothes 'cause, man, you stink worse than these damned Baboons."

After giving instructions on Frizell's care to the maltreated Baboon lieutenant (who would have been given a name if the author had known he was gonna hang around so damned long), Freddie found his own way out of the compound. Once back on the street he hailed a taxicab, opened its door and jumped in the back.

"Where to, Mack?" asked the driver, a young Proboscis monkey.

Freddie dug in his pocket for Mrs. Frizell's address. "6715 North Elm Lane. Izzat far?"

The driver turned and leaned over the seat while pulling a two-foot length of lead pipe from the seat beside his right leg. "Nope." he replied as the pipe connected with Fat Freddie's temple. The last thing Freddie remembered as he drifted into unconsciousnass was the driver saying, "But it don't matter 'cause you won't be goin' there anyways, chump."

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 04:18 PM

They spilled the beans. Also the water, the slop bins, and the fruit trays. But the monks sang. They told him. And Chongo knew. He knew about the whole sordid, rotten mess.

He knew about why he got a draft notice, and who to pay off to get off the hook. He knew about the bana...banna...bananana...fruit smuggling plots and the ideas to run black market stuff down from Canada. He knew about Hitler invading Poland, about the Battle of Britain, about the incursion of North Korea into South Korea, about the Battle of Bosworth Field.

"Hey," he said, "you monkeys know too damned much."

They were still jabbering away when he left. Something about rap music, whatever that was. Or would be. The monks didn't seem to bother much with time. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, was all one to them. Of course, he mused, if you're in stir for life I guess time don't mean a lot.

He swung down from the tree, pulled his carstarter our of his pocket. Smart investment, he thought, never know when your cars gonna go blooey on ya these days.

He pushed the carstarter.

The car blew up, just like it was in a movie.

The Tommy gun and the extra ammo smacked him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Jesus, he thought. This shit's gotta bloody well STOP. I could get hurt.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 06:03 PM

Raptor - Well, I might if I had her number. What a dish. I took the bucket on a run ta Barrie on the weekend and stopped by the store, but the doll wasn't there. Instead, I end up talking wit' dis boob named Greg who's tryin' ta sell me a Lazy-Boy for $1200 berries. So, I dusted outta there and hit Chapters for a bit. Met an old Orillia acquaintance named Sean who useta be a telemarketer a couple years ago, but he's outta that racket now. Good thing. I shoot telemarketers on sight. I don't know where the babe is at, but I will check for her again after Christmas.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 09:03 PM

Fat Freddie regained consciousness in what appeared to be a pool hall. Well, it damned well better have been a pool hall because there were about two dozen pool tables, around 400 pool balls and an indeterminate number of pool cues within plain sight. There was also a sign on the window that said rolraP drailliB only the letters were either backwards or in a foreign alphabet. In his current state of consciousness, Fat Freddie wasn't exactly sure which was the case, but he was pretty sure it meant "Pool Hall" in some language. At any rate, the place was closed so there were no sounds of colliding billiard balls, a favor for which Freddie was highly grateful, considering that his head felt like it had been hit by a lead pipe which, observant readers may recall, it had.

Soon after concluding that he was definitely in a pool hall, Fat Freddie also came decided that he must also be tied up. The combination of inability to feel his arms or legs plus the presence of substantial lengths of rope around his wrists, elbows, ankles, knees and neck made the conclusion a real no brainer. Furthermore, what he was tied to was a shoeshine chair. Damn! Shoeshine chairs are bolted to the floor. Even an ape of Fat Freddie's size couldn't rock one of them hard enough for it to turn over. The best Fat Freddie could hope for was that someone might shine his shoes while he was waiting for whoever had sapped him to finish the job.

"Well, Fat Freddie'" a voice crooned from behind him, "good to see you again. Sorry it can't be under better circumstances." Freddie tried to turn toward the voice, but the combination of the rope around his neck and the pain in his head made it, well, not really impossible, but certainly kinda stupid considering that by the time this paragraph is finished whoever it was is going to have walked around to the front side of the chair anyway.

"Well I'll be damned!" Fat Freddie sorta half moaned half groaned (you know, the way people in movies do after they've been hit with a lead pipe and kidnapped) as he found himself looking at the largest Orangutan he could ever recall seeing, "Big Daddy Malone! The scourge of Schenectady. I shoulda known it'd be you behind this. But why?"
"Why?" Big Daddy sneered, "Why? Because you Miami apes are gettin' to big for your britches. That's why! First you keep all the best fruit and vegetables for yourselves. Then when guys like me wanna make a few extra bucks by cuttin' some deals with humans so we can maybe have some really nice ripe papayas every now and then it's 'Nooooo!' from you Miami bunch. What's it to ya if I wanna fence a few hot diamonds? Who's gonna get hurt? Some human? Who gives a rat's ass? All we want is money to buy some nice ripe bananas. I've got a message for you to deliver to The Boss. You can tell him he ain't my boss. Tell him we don't care how you do it in friggin' Florida. This is Chicago. And Chicago's a long way from Miami."
By now, Fat Freddie had regained most of his consciousness and a fair amount of his cussedness and sarcasm (though in the back of his mind he was still wondering when he'd get the shoeshine). "Well all right, asshole," he barked in Big Daddy's face, "I'll deliver your message. Now, is there any reason why I can't be untied?"
"Well," sneered Big Daddy, "in fact...   There is!"
The Orangutan quickly stepped behind the shoeshine chair, fumbled around with something Fat Freddy couldn't see, and then stepped back in front of the chair. Fat Freddy was expecting to see a Tommy gun or maybe a pair of loppers to take off a finger or two but, no, what he saw Big Daddy holding brought a far greater fear to his heart than any gat or shiv could have ever produced. In his hands, Big Daddy held a 0-18 Martin guitar and it was obvious that he didn't know how to use it! The fact that Big Daddy Malone bore the most coincidental of superficial resemblances to the porcine human folk singer Burl Ives had convinced him that he too had a gift for guitar-accompanied renditions of ballads, work songs and other such human nonsense. With a flourish and an attempt at a circle-of-fifths turnaround intro, the huge Orang launched into "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" which immediately elicited screams of pain from the bound Fat Freddie. The scene was reminiscent of having to listen to Vogon poetry, only the Vogons wouldn't visit Earth for another forty years or so. But, then again, who's keeping track of past, present and future around here anyway?
After the full four-minute long rendition of the song, Big Daddy had reduced Fat Freddie to a quivering shell of his former self. His eyes were rolled back into his head and his tongue protruded from his mouth, from which a viscous drool was issuing. "All right," called Big Daddy to two of his henchmen, "Untie him and throw him out onto the sidewalk. Did you hear me? I said untie him! Take out the Goddamned ear plugs ya friggin' nitwits!"

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 09:28 PM

Note to self: Do not assume that the double linebreaks from the word processing program will automatically work correctly when cut and pasted to Mudcat. Preview and proofread, idiot!

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 22 Dec 03 - 11:46 PM

"Oh, the bu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-.....uzzin' of the bees, and the cigarette trees, the soda water fountain...where the lemonade springs and the bluebird sings...in that Big Rock Ca-a-a-ndy Mountain!"

GAAAAHHH! Vicious! Sadistic! Inhuman! Unsimian!!! Definitely not nice!

And just wait till he pulls out the tenor banjo... (shudder)

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 23 Dec 03 - 11:55 AM

Editor's report: Mr Chongo got so excited reading this explosive stuff last night that he went sort of berserk. It started with little excited hoots, that got louder and louder. Then he started pounding the keyboard and shrieking. This got the dachshunds all worked up too and they started raising hell. This got Mr Chongo even more excited, and he and the dogs started chasing each other all around, tearing up the furniture, and generally trashing the place.

It's a mess. And Christmas is almost upon us.

Therefore, there may be a temporary hiatus while everyone here recovers and gets organized for the Big Day. But stay tuned.

Congratulations to our hardworking stable of writers who have advanced the genre of Primate Pulp Fiction by a quantum leap! Ook! Ook! Ook!

Oh....my little monkey head is aching....

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 23 Dec 03 - 01:31 PM

When last we saw our friend Fat Freddie he had been dumped on the sidewalk in front of a Southside pool hall after having his brain fried by Big Daddy Malone's rendition of "The Big Rock Candy Mountain". After spending a couple of hours staring blankly into space while lying in a pile of garbage, he was found by a passing pair of Salvation Army Santa Clauses who somehow managed to get him to his feet and waddling toward the Army's Shelter where he was told he must eat thin potato soup or face dire consequences. I'll tell ya, It was simply heartbreaking to see the once mighty Miami Mob Musclechimp reduced to taking orders from reformed winos and hookers. After an hour or so of abuse during which Freddie was incapable of giving them as much as his name, he was deposited in a bunk in a dormitory room shared with about a dozen other smelly, snoring, farting reprobates of various species.

Now, the reader is probably asking himself (and I use the masculine term intentionally because women are generally far too intelligent to be reading this crap), "Is this the end? Is it all over for Fat Freddie? Will he ever remember who he is? And what about Tiny Tim? Will Bob Cratchett be able to afford his operation now that the Scrooge and Marley have blown all their profits buying shoes for orphans and have had to file for Chapter 13 bankruptcy protection?"

Nah! It ain't over 'til I say it's over and I say, "It ain't over." But, having a huge Chimp with a wiped out brain - a tabula rassa, if you will - opens up all kinds of possibilities, doesn't it? Gawd! What a cliche! The opportunities for contrivances on a level that would make James Fenimore Cooper cringe simply abound! But, enough of this! Back to the story!

When Fat Freddie awoke the next morning he was dragged into the mess hall where he was served a breakfast of the leftovers from last night's thin potato soup thinned down even further. As he sat at the mess hall table staring at the watery soup, a Capuchin at his right-hand side began to chatter and jabber about nothing in particular. (This was not at all unusual, a Capuchin's normal state of mind being about on a par with that of a human who has just snorted $500.00 worth of cocaine.)

"Hey, Buddy. Haven't seen you here before. You new in town? How they treatin' ya? You sure are a big guy. Ya need anything? I got connections. Man, you're huge. There's folks that'd pay good money t' have someone yer size aroun' justa scare people. I got friends. Yeah. Lissen, there's this private dick guy that throws some work my way every now an' then. Ya know. Us Capuchins are small an' can go places you chimps can't. Know what I mean? Takin' pitchers through third story windows and that kinda stuff. Decent guy. You'd like 'im. Chimp like you, only not so damned huge. Goes by th' name of Chongo."

At the mention of Chongo's name a very, very, teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy bell rang way back in the deepest recesses of Fat Freddie's brain. The fog that had been completely covering his eyes became, maybe, two percent less dense and impenetrable and he spoke the first word he had spoken since being released from Big Daddy's shoeshine chair. "Chongo."



(Boy! Is this a great place to stop for Christmas break or what? The suspense! The excitement! The utter BS of it all! Gotta go wrap presents. Goin' outta town fer a few. Probably be back by Saturday. Merry or Happy Christmas depending on how you like to say it wherever you are.)

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 23 Dec 03 - 02:57 PM

Chongo was still looking bitterly at the smoking remains of his car when she walked by, casually swinging a patent leather handbag, and remarked, "Tough break, soldier."

"You're tellin' me," he grumbled. "It was almost paid off." Then he got a proper look at the dame and did a doubletake. She was tall. Really tall. Built slender, like a dancer, but she had curves in all the right places and legs that went straight up to Alaska. She wore a deep red outfit that clung to her body like a lovesick boa constrictor. Dark hair, a bit shorter than the current styles...sorta like one of those flapper hairdos from the 20's, and her skirt was slit on the sides like one of them Chinese dames in the Fu Manchu novels. Dark red lipstick, almost black. Chongo
gulped, and forgot all about the car for a moment or two.
                                        
"Who are you?" he croaked, forgetting to sound like a tough guy for once.

"I'm Laura. I'm an entertainer. Got a light? Or is the gat still hot enough to light one off the barrel?"

Chongo took in a deep breath, tried to gather his wits, and struck a light for the lady. She pulled out a long, black cigarette holder, stuck a Belvedere in the end, and lit up. It got so quiet that Chongo could hear his own heartbeat, pounding like the Dum-Dum. He loved dames who carried long cigarette holders.

"So...you got a name?" she inquired, taking a slow drag. (This was crazy. "What is she doin', standin' here talkin' to a strange chimp beside his blown-up car?")

"Name's Chongo. Chongo Chimp. You mighta heard it somewhere," said Chongo, struggling for oxygen. He could feel sweat trickling down the small of his back.

"Yeah, matter of fact I have. You're a gumshoe, and not a bad one, I hear.   I like gumshoes, if they're smart. You look smart, but you need a new trenchcoat. Look, Chongo, we have a situation here. You've got a dead car that is attracting a lot of attention..." (Chongo looked around. There was quite a crowd of gawkers gathering. The cops would be here any minute with a million stupid questions he didn't really want to answer) "...and I've got a thirst for a Dacquiri or a Tom Collins. They make good ones at Antonio's and
it's just around the corner. You comin' or would you rather wait for Officer "O'Malley"?"

Chongo gulped. "A Tom Collins sounds good to me." He tucked the tommy gun under his trenchcoat and fell in step beside her, listening to her heels go clickety-click down the sidewalk.

Laura. An "entertainer". Christ, was she ever tall.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 23 Dec 03 - 05:50 PM

Lay off it, will ya! I've got too damn many presents still to wrap...

Charles Noble

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 23 Dec 03 - 11:17 PM

Antonio's was a nifty spot for taking a break in, and they mixed good drinks too. Chongo knew the place moderately well. They had a jazz band, and jazz singers sometimes. Billie Holiday had sung there...he knew that.

They grabbed a small table in the corner with a view of the whole room. Standard routine. You don't want to ever turn your back to a room if you can help it. Apparently Laura knew that too, and it didn't escape Chongo's notice that she did. There was more to this babe than met the eye...and that was saying a lot in her case.

"Why did you stop and talk to me?" he asked, lighting up a Cuban and gazing at her watchfully over his paws. He was beginning to regain his aplomb, at least on the outside...but man, what a looker this doll was!

"I don't know," she said offhandedly. "Just a momentary impulse, I guess."

(That was a lie, thought Chongo. Okay...)

"Yeah," grinned Chongo. "I mean, who wouldn't want to talk to an unknown chimp whose car just blew up an' who's tryin' to conceal a tommy gun under his trenchcoat as soon as he finds out if it's still in workin' order? I understand. You're just the sympathetic kind, right?"

Laura laughed merrily. "You've got a good sense of humour for a gumshoe," she said, "and a great sense of humour for a gumshoe that's a chimp. Do you dance?"

"WHAT?!?," gasped Chongo. "You gotta be kidding...we can't...in here..."

"I just asked if you dance, that's all," said Laura, blowing a smoke ring and smiling in a way that was hard to read.

Chongo's brain whirled. First of all, no human female was gonna dance with no ape in no public place, or probably anywhere. There were unwritten rules about stuff like that. Second of all, she was a lot taller than he was, and he couldn't figure out the logistics that it would involve...although that didn't mean it was theoretically impossible...

Third of all, what the hell did she ask him that for? What was she up to? ("She's tryin' to throw me off balance," he thought...and succeeding at it too. Gotta get a grip on myself here.") "Sure I dance," he volunteered defiantly. "I know all the dances. How about you?"

"Yeah. I know a few steps..."   ("I bet you do," thought Chongo.)

"Matter of fact," continued Laura, "I do it professionally. Jazz dancer, modern dancer, singer and actress when the work is available. I'm rehearsing for a musical at the Alexandra."

That explained the look...partly...and Chongo was obscurely relieved. It had crossed his mind that she might be a high class hooker or a stripper or something like that. She had way too much
nerve for an uptown girl. Still, there had to be more to it than that.

"I didn't catch your last name, Laura," he said.

"I didn't toss it," she answered, resting her chin calmly on her crossed hands, and spreading her fingers like a lazy cat stretching in the sun.

Chongo couldn't help laughing and spluttered in his drink. Geez. This one loved to play the game, didn't she? He wiped his face clumsily with the napkin.

Just then the MC stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, apes and apettes...we have a special treat for you tonight...all the way from Schenectady...the one...the only...the
legendary...Big Daddy Malone!!! On the saxophone!"

Chongo's gut clenched like a bear trap. His closeset little chimpanzee eyes locked on the stage like a hitman zeroing in on his next target...as the curtains parted to a burst of swing music from
the human jazz band...and out stepped none other than the Schenectady Orangutan himself, his huge paws wrapped around a gleaming saxophone that Chongo could see at a glance was the very best instrument you could get.

"What the...!" blurted Chongo.

"You know him?" asked Laura. "He's becoming quite the item around here. The Big Boss who plays with the bands. Just pray that he doesn't decide to sing for us..."

Chongo didn't know what she meant by that, but he kept one eye on her, the other on Big Daddy, who was blowing up a storm on the sax, and one hand on the thompson under his coat. This had to be a setup, and she had to be in on it. Well, they wouldn't find it easy to knock down Chongo Chimp, he thought grimly. Let 'em try.

"He's good isn't he?...the ugly bastard." said Laura.

Chongo didn't have the slightest idea. One thing he had never revealed to anyone was the fact that he was totally, absolutely tone deaf, and couldn't distinguish a good tune from a lousy one to save his life. It was all just a bunch of screechy and thumpy noises to Chongo. He had a good enough sense of rythm, could dance fine, and could vaguely tell the difference between low notes and high ones, but that was as far as it went. The rest, for Chongo, was an impenetrable mystery. What people saw or rather heard in it, he could not fathom. It was just noise.

"Yeah, he's not bad," he responded, faking it. "I seen better though."

"Can you excuse me for just a minute?" asked Laura. ("Here it comes," thought Chongo. The safety was off on the thompson.) She got up and walked across the dance floor toward the Master of Ceremonies. Just about then Chongo caught a glance from Big Daddy. The dirty banana-peeler knew he was there all right. He actually looked surprised for an instant...but kept playing. Odd.

Laura was coming back to the table. Not what Chongo had expected. If she had a gun it had to be in the handbag, and that was on her chair.

"I arranged for us to dance," she said. "It's okay. They know me here. You ready?"

Chongo looked at her in total disbelief, just as Big Daddy finished his solo, and the MC stepped up to the mike, resplenent in his tuxedo and tails.

"And now...Ladies and gentlemen, apes and apettes...a rare and special treat as Miss Laura M takes to the dance floor with Mr Chongo Chimp as a token of the good relations between the species at Antonio's and as a welcome to your friend and mine...Big Daddy Malone!"

There was a sprinkling of polite applause, mixed with curious looks. Chongo froze in his seat. He could not take the tommy gun out on that dance floor.

"I am not goin' out there!" he grated, glowering at Laura.

"Oh?" she said. "Well, I am disappointed." They locked eyes for a long moment. Then she shrugged. "I didn't take you for a weak sister," she said, calmly stubbing out her cigarette.

Chongo went completely rigid. A slow burn started inside him and rose straight up to his ears. Every muscle in his body was aquiver with suppressed anger. He though he would explode.

"Let's dance," he said savagely, and he swept the trenchcoat and most of his firepower under the table. Nothing left now but the .357 under his vest.

Laura didn't even blink. She extended her hand and Chongo took it like he was picking up a live puff adder. As if in a dream they walked out onto the dance floor.

Big Daddy was staring at the two of them with an indecipherable gaze that seemed to hint of combined surprise, suspicion, hatred, and contempt all rolled into one twisted ball of emotion. And the band began to play.

They danced one dance. It couldn't have lasted more than three minutes, but it seemed like three hours to Chongo, beset by a tornado of conflicting emotions. He expected to die at any instant. He was ready to die in fact, and considered himself to be the biggest fool that had ever walked the streets of Chicago. He was also stunned, positively transfixed by the fact that he actually was dancing with this lithe and mysterious woman. In her own strange way she was the culmination of a thousand unspoken dreams and imaginings that Chongo had held in the back of his mind for all these years. She was his muse. His unknown. His untouchable...that he was now touching, if
only in a formal manner. She had perfume that smelled like crushed flowers and patchouli. She was not simian in the least, she was totally human. And Chongo had never experienced anything like it. He felt like a god awaiting sacrifice on some altar where even the gods must die.

It finally ended, with a last flourish from Big Daddy's sax, and a burst of applause from the audience, particularly the few apes in the place, who were galvanized, although a bit nervous. And then they were walking back to their table... ("I'm still alive...")

On the way they caught a lot of jocular comment from various well-dressed and seemingly well-meaning humans who seemed to know Laura well. They were being overly solicitous and laughing way too loudly for Chongo's liking. Right in his face. "Pretty fancy stepper!" this one asshole with a gigolo's haircut kept saying.

Chongo felt humiliated...like he was some kind of performing circus bear for the entertainment and amusement of these bums. But it wasn't a hot anger anymore, it was a cold, slow anger that sat deep in his gut and behind his eyes.

Laura could feel it too, and she suddenly realized exactly what he was going through, like a sharp pain in her chest. But that wasn't all she could feel. Big Daddy was leaving the state. In a hurry.
Two Gorillas were heading backstage as well.

"Go to the lady's room now," she said quietly, pretending to check her makeup in a pocket mirror. "The human Lady's Room, and not the Men's. There's a small window. Go out that window immediately, whether you ever see me again or not and move! Don't think about it. Go now!"

Chongo glared back at her, thought "What the hell!", gathered up his stuff and headed for the restrooms at a steady walk. He saw nothing unusual. "What if there's a human dame in there?" The thought made him hesitate for an instant. "Aww...shit!" He pushed open the door. It was empty, looked much more ordinary than he'd expected, and there was the window, just like she said. Tricky for a human, but no problem for a chimp at all. He hesitated for just a moment, then cut the screen and...

"Man, you are one lucky ape-bastard..." Chongo froze. "...but your luck just ran out. Turn around. I want you to see it coming."

Chongo could have made a desperate leap for the window, but something told him not to this time. He turned around.

It was a man, standing in the open door. A typical young Eye-tie hood with a little mustache and a pinstripe suit. His .38 was trained right on Chongo, and he looked like he knew how to use it.

"Smart ape," said the guy. "Too smart. I figured you'd do the unpredictable. Say hello to the Big Sleep, sucker..."

The skinny gunsel froze himself as he felt a cold muzzle pressed to the back of his own neck.

Laura. She had come after all, and in the nick of time. Jesus. She signaled "move in and brain him" with her free hand.

"Drop it," said Chongo. The .38 hit the floor. Chongo stepped forward, picked it up and smacked the skinny guy one on the jaw that laid him out cold.

"You didn't wanta have him hear ya, right?" he said to Laura. She nodded, and slipped her own gun back in her handbag.

"Laura...I know I gotta go fast, but..." he spoke hoarsely..."don't NEVER do nothin' like that to me again! Don't ever do it again."

"I'm sorry, Chongo," she said, not looking away, and looking very sad. "Truly I am."

He would have turned to go then, but she handed him a card. "Listen. You ever want to talk, you can always reach me here. If you don't want to talk, I'll understand."         

He took the card wordlessly, pocketed it, and was out the window and gone.

* * * * *

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 24 Dec 03 - 04:37 PM

Editor's note: Chongo got all teary after that last scene, and is now consoling himself with hot mulled cider spiked with Cuban rum, and contemplating the vicissitudes of unattainable inter-species love...he's dizzy with the dame. Bein' as how it is now Christmas Eve, all us gumshoes, grifters, and hatchetmen are gonna put away our beanshooters for a day or two, kick back, and enjoy the fruits of our labours in relative peace.

Want my advice? Don't take the fall for nothin' you didn't do, stay off the nose-candy, and keep it on the square...and you'll do just fine in this town.

On behalf of Mr Chongo and the entire staff at Primate Eye Productions, we bid you all a Very Merry Christmas and the gladdest of glad tidings for a prosperous and luminous New Year!!!

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 02:50 PM

When we last saw, heard from, or otherwise interacted with our amnesiac friend Fat Freddie, the oversized Musclechimp from the Miami Mob, he had spoken the word "Chongo" in a rather cryptic fashion. Is this a harbinger of some kind of breakthrough? Is it a sign that Fat Freddie is regaining his mental faculties after being brainwashed by Big Daddy Malone's rendition of "The Big Rock Candy Mountain"? Is he going to remember who he is and ruin the author's trite, pat, contrived dependence on the old amnesia chestnut?

Nope!

Now, when Fat Freddie said "Chongo", you probably thought he was remembering something about his current Mob assignment - something to do with Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye - right? Wrong! Actually "Chongo" is not just the name of the hero of this story, but the name of a popular snack-food item marketed only in the South Florida area.    Fat Freddie was merely having a purely Pavlovian response to the mention of one of his favorite food items. Look, when you're a big guy like Fat Freddie food is number one and "Chongo" brand yogurt and carob dipped sun-dried banana slices are number one among all the other number ones. Trust me. The guy don't remember squat. His brain is fried, finished, kaput and otherwise no longer part if this story. Repeat after me, "Bye-bye Fat Freddie's brain!"

However, that overly garrulous little speed-freak Capuchin monkey whose mention of the word "Chongo" prompted Fat Freddie's reaction doesn't know that! He's from Chicago and he's never even heard of "Chongo" brand yogurt and carob dipped sun-dried banana slices. The word "Chongo" only means one thing to him. It means "money". In his seedy little monkey brain there has to be a connection between his occasional employer, Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye, and the very large but very dumb Chimp sitting beside him at the Salvation Army mess hall table and mumbling, "Chongo." The exact nature of the connection between the two is uncertain, but that's of no concern to the Capuchin. The possibility that there might be a finder's fee associated with his facilitating their reunion is, however, of rather sizeable concern.

"So," jibbered the Capuchin, "you know Chongo, huh?"

"Chongo!" replied Fat Freddie while staring blankly into his bowl of extra-watered-down potato soup.

"You an' Chongo friends? You like Chongo?"

"Like Chongo!"

"Ya wanna go see Chongo? He should be in his office by now. I know the way. I'll take ya there, big guy. Right to yer ol' buddy Chongo. But, er, it's a pretty long walk, ya know. Ya wouldn' happen t' have cab fare or maybe a couple of bus tokens or somethin' like that, wouldja?"

"Chongo."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. Well, I guess a little walk never hurt anyone."

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 03:58 PM

Thanks, gang!

Charley Noble, who may be your only reader

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 04:08 PM

(He's not but he may be the only one who is a solipsist....)


A

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 05:24 PM

Editor's note: Solipsism? How da ya figger, Amos? Man, I just rented "The Big Sleep" with Bogart and Bacall...great movie! Of course, any movie with Bogart and Bacall in it is a great movie. I have also gotten a collection of Raymond Chandler's four greatest whodunits from the library, starring the peerless Philip Marlowe, and am reading them to help get in the mood. Darn good writing, I'd have to say. The problem is, they're all set in southern California, and I need private eye stories that are set in 1940's Chicago. Suggestions?

Mr Chongo (I mean the ape presently employed by my company to fend off telemarketers, not the one in our story, who is his alter ego...) is still in recovery from massive holiday indulgence in consumable edibles and drinkables. He is trying to live up to the image of a Primate Ape, and succeeding reasonably well, in that he has a terrible hangover.

The tale should be moving right along shortly here. I hope Chongo succeeds in pumping Fat Freddy for some useful information, but the chances look slim, unless he can find an antidote for Big Daddy's awful singing.

What is Laura's game? That is not clear yet, but she ain't there by accident, and it looks like she's developing a soft spot for the simian gumshoe...which could prove to be a lifesaver. It already has once. Mind ya, he wouldn't have gone into Antonio's if not for her, so maybe that makes it just even at this point.

Note that human hoods are involved now too. Not good. Must be the diamonds. They wouldn't be in it for the bananas.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 08:09 PM

( I was funning Charley on account he reckoned he might be the only person reading this story, solely based on self-assessment. Maybe there are hundreds of readers out there who believe they are the only readers. Now I realize this is not true solipsism, but I couldn't think of a better word to capture the thought. Sorry. A)

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 27 Dec 03 - 11:47 PM

As Fat Freddie and the mouthy Capuchin walk down West Washington toward the offices of Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye, a festering problem relating to the narrative style of Bee-dubya's contribution to this tale begins to come to a head.   Inasmuch as other contributors to this story have seen fit to write of Chongo's adventures in the overly simile-laden style typically associated with '40s detective fiction (complete with its unenlightened attitudes toward women), a stylistic conflict somewhat resembling the aftermath of a major train derailment is about to occur.

The crux of the matter is that Bee-dubya really, really, really, really hates that Sam Spade/Phillip Marlowe detective writing style. Yes, there are others who just love it and that's fine. There's no disputing taste. But Bee-dubya would rather take a razor blade to his wrists than have to write a line like "She wore a dress so tight that...." See! He can't do it! Can't even finish one stinkin' line!

Ya see, prior to now, Bee-dubya has been dealing strictly with peripheral characters and you can do them in any style you want. Ya don't really have to do the Sam Spade bit until you're talkin' about the main character, the private dick, the gumshoe of the story. The minor characters don't talk in ridiculous shop-worn metaphors and similes because they don't have to. Bartenders are not required to compare women's dames' dresses to Boa Constrictors, Burmese Pythons or any other slithery creatures, but gumshoes are. That's because minor characters have normal healthy sex lives. Only the main character is unfulfilled and perpetually horny to the point of having to create what he thinks are flattering - but, in reality, demeaning - figures of speech about any woman slightly more attractive than Barbara Bush. Truth of the matter is that all those guys are probably afraid of women and so are the writers who created them. If they were around today they'd probably join men's groups and spend their weekends throwing spears and dancing around campfires trying to figure out why they feel so unfulfilled.

So, there you have it. There's a big, dumb Chimp who doesn't know who or what he is on his way to a rendezvous with destiny in the form of Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye. Bee-dubya can't write any more about the subject because it would mean he would have to write in the "faux Phillip Marlowe" style appropriate to writing about Chongo himself, and HE'S NOT GONNA DO IT!!!!

So, Fat Freddie is going to step off a curb right into the path of an oncoming CTA bus. It will cure his amnesia, but it will also leave him paralysed and wheelchair-bound for life. Fortunately, the yappy little Capuchin monkey is going to be flattened like a pancake. Good riddance!

Meanwhile, Bee-dubya's gonna turn around and go back to Miami and come up with some more peripheral crap that he can do in a style closer to Dirk Gently, Holistic Detective, than Sam Spade.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 28 Dec 03 - 06:02 PM

Editor's note: LOL! Funniest damn post yet, Bee-dub. Whatsa matter, nancy-boy, ya can't cut capers wit' da big boys? You ain't nevah gonna impress no dolls by drinkin' tea wit' one finger stickin' out, ya sap. Dolls don't go for sissy boys, see? Listen, if it's too hot for you on the firing line, whyncha get a job in the back office runnin' the newsprint or somepn'? We gotta job to do here, see? We ain't hangin' out no silk hankies for Good Friday...

And then...

* * * *

Chongo got out of the vicinity of Antonio's fast and got a good view of several back alleys he had no desire to visit on his next holiday, if it ever came. It was starting to rain again. A fitful, spattering rain that came down like a Mother Superior showering what she might haved termed "constructive" criticism on a neophyte nun. Lousy weather! Just in case there were any more pistol-packing hoods of the human persuasion on his trail, Chongo shucked off his shoes, stuck them in a side pocket, and took the "monkey route", straight up the side of a filthy old six story apartment building that had a bunch of handy art deco type ledges and sculptures on it. It felt good to be climbing again.

From the roof, which was punctuated by a variety of decaying chimneys and air vents, Chongo surveyed what he could see of the city. Block after block of sodden buildings stared back at him mutely. The streets were fairly busy, as usual, and the impatient honking of cars drifted up along with the sound of engines.

Chongo thought long and hard about Laura...and about his car. Where did the dame fit in? Why had she led him to Antonio's, practically delivering him on a platter to Big Daddy Malone, and then saved his little monkey skin when the crisis came? It didn't add up. "One thing for sure, human dames don't dance with apes," he said to no one in particular. A stray cat that had been stalking pigeons on the roof before Chongo arrived eyed him with disdain, as though it was contemplating the illicit event Chongo had referred to, and was disgusted at the thought. Actually, it was just disgusted with the fact that he was there and the pigeons were not.

"Drift!" said Chongo, and he pitched a handful of cinders at the cat which spat and took off down a rusty iron fire escape at the south side. Good. He had never liked cats much.

"Another thing for sure," he thought, "I ain't goin' back to my office. Not now. If someone wants me bad enough to blow up my flivver, then they want me bad enough to blow up my office too, and I can't afford that. I gotta find a safe place to hole up for awhile..."

The sound of quarreling voices, a man's and a woman's, broke in on Chongo's train of thought and derailed it momentarily...

"Whattya think? I'm made of money?"

"You're a no-good, lousy, bum who can't even hold down a job..."

The voices were coming from a chimney or vent that was a couple of feet away.

"Bum, am I? Well, I ain't a sap, that's what! I ain't some pushover who's gonna let himself be played like a violin by some little chippy..."

"Fer Chrissake," griped Chongo, "a chimp can't even think by himself on a rooftop in this city...HEY!!!" he yelled down the vent in stentorian tones, putting his lips right against the opening. "Close yer goddamn head!"

There was a moment's shocked silence. Then...

"Who the ____ is that?" hollered the guy.

"The one yer mother told ya to stay away from, ankle boy," Chongo replied back down the vent. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

"My mother! You stinkin' piece of _____!"

"That's right, bo...yer mother...the dame who's shined more shoes than any pro skirt in Chicago. Now shut up or I come down there and plug yer cakehole!"

"You DIRTY _________________!" Whoever this guy was, he had a good command of common obscenities. "I'm comin' up there wherever you are, and I'm gonna kill you!"

"I'm on the sixth floor, chump. Don't knock yerself out climbin' too many stairs." Chongo hung up on the guy by dropping a large chunk of debris down the vent, walked over to the north side and did an easy jump to the next building, chuckling to himself. He could still hear the guy yelling, but only faintly.

Five buildings later and a couple of streets over Chongo made his way down to street level and put his shoes back on after making a cursory and largely unsuccessful attempt to dry his feet first. Shoes were a concession an ape made to keep up with social styles, and they were good for cutting up on the dance floor, but they effectively cut his ambidextrous tool handling abilities by 50 percent. It could be a problem.

So, a hideout had to be arranged pronto. But where? Nymbel's apartment. That was where. The crazy little Capuchin owed him a couple, and would be willing to provide a temporary refuge, no doubt. Chongo had gotten Nymbel's chestnuts outta the fire more than once. Nymbel would do it, no questions asked. Chongo headed for the North side of town, 29 Grebe Street...a nice, quiet place to lay low for awhile and plan battle strategy.

- LH









- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: freda underhill
Date: 28 Dec 03 - 11:43 PM

It was all getting too much. Chongo's head was like a bad drummer's beat, his mouth like a putrid banana, rotten, soggy and fluffy with accumulated ape breath. From far away, through an open window somewhere, Chongo heard the faint sound of a blues harp, and a voice like a rusty gate..

SWEET HOME CHIMPAGO
Roberta Johnson

Oh, baby don't you want to go? (2x)
Back to the land of California, sweet Chongo Chimps abode.

Oh, baby don't you want to go? (2x)
Back to the land of California, sweet Chongo Chimps abode.
.
Now, one and one is two, two and two is four,
I'm heavy loaded Betty, I'm yours, I'm ready to go,
Cryin' Betty, honey don't you want to go?
Back to the land of California, sweet Chongo Chimps abode.

Now two and two is four, four and two is six,
You gonna keep on monkeyin' 'round with baboons Lenny,
you gonna get your business thrown out in the streets.
Cryin' Betty, honey don't you want to go?
Back to the land of California, sweet Chongo Chimps abode.

Now six and two is eight, eight and two is ten,
This Betty, she trick you one time, she sure gonna do it to Len,
I'm cryin' hey--, baby don't you want to go?
Back to the land of California, sweet Chongo Chimps abode.

I'm going to California, some street ape comes my way,
Somebody will tell me Betty that you need my help some day,
Cryin' hey hey, baby don't you want to go?
Back to the land of California, to sweet Chongo Chimps abode.
The oily stains on the faded street wall moved, bigger and smaller as the sound of the blues harp echoed through Chongo's drifting brain. His eyes were bulging like two throttled toads. His head was racing, struggling with a pungent sense of déjà vu. He'd heard those words before.. but something was different. All he could think of were those long, long legs, and since it was his fantasy, he covered them with thick, long, sensuous black hair..

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Peace
Date: 29 Dec 03 - 12:59 AM

In Chongo's mind raced fastly the turbulent notion of a torrid encounter with a Californian babe with as much hair as a Mexican hairless doesn't have. As sweat pulsed down his bulging brow and dripped sordidly to the floor, he thought of his long-dead grandmother and ideas of a quick relief from the stresses of the thankless days left him as he hung his head in shame.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 29 Dec 03 - 09:19 AM

It wasn't easy, either, typing stuff in around a misplaced ad. Damn HTML and XML and XSL and such like iniitals, thought Chongo. I wonder what they mean?

But he came out from behind the billboard -- it helped if he thought of them as billboards -- and swung himself on the window ledge. He knocked.

No answer. He knocked again.

Still no answer.

He tugged on the casement window. It swung open. Unlocked. Damn stupid little Cap, just like 'em, their braincases were so small....

The trail of blood snagged his attention like stinkbait catches a catfish. It wasn't droplets, but a pretty good stream. Liquid, he thought, but going pasty.

For some reason, pasty made him think of Laura. He shook his head to clear it. He'd need a clear head, because all he had was his .357. The Capone-model typewriter was still in his Burberry, the sawed-off in the other pocket.

Gat in hand, he followed the trail.

It grew cold as he entered the ratty kitchen. Nymbel was there, growing cold too. Or colder. Chongo looked at the open window, first up and then down.

Whoever plugged Nymbel was either a damn good climber for a human or a middling good Simian-American. It was seven stories to the concrete, and five more to the roof. Probably simian -- there were no heel marks or other indications that the hitter had been wearing shoes.

Chongo turned, looked around. They'd blasted poor old Nymbel like they'd used a cannon. Wonder what they used...cartridge case over there...aw shit, no!

.357. And now his prints were on it. Someone had known that he had the Monster under his jacket and had set him up for a fall. And since Nymbel's hands were tied and he'd been shot in the back of the head, they wanted him to fall for Murder One.

Neat. Chongo takes the fall and fries in the Hot Seat in Joliet. He wondered when the cops would show, and then the knock came.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 29 Dec 03 - 06:28 PM

Editor's note: Aw, fer flip's sake! Can't I invent or name any minor character without some cowriter offing him within a page or so? How'm I supposed ta build character here, bo? Answer me that? Geez. I was figurin' on Chongo spendin' at least a couple of days workin' out of Nymbel's place, see? I figgered Chachi was gonna be around for awhile too, but noooo...you guys gotta blow everybody away. I go to all the trouble of comin' up with really unique and memorable names for characters and POW! They get put on ice. Whattya think this is, some stupid 1990's action film here with 55 bangs a minute? This is the '40's, see? We gotta build a little atmosphere before we start throwin' lead around like Dutch Shulz on a hot Sunday afternoon.

Aw hell, we can edit this stuff later I guess. Rewind back a ways, Mabel, and we'll plug that part in later where it fits...and gimme a coffee. With a slug of whisky in it.

* * * * *

Nymbel and Fat Freddy had gone down to Chongo's office, but found no one there, so they came back to Nymbel's dump instead. The first thing they saw when Nymbel unlocked the door was Chongo, sitting calmly in the armchair, cutting a fresh cigar, and working on a stiff drink. "Hi, Nymbel," said Chongo. "You left your window open again. I told ya never to do that. It's wet as a fisherman's boots out there, so I let myself in and poured a quick one to warm up. Okay? Who's the fat guy?"

"Chongo..." said Fat Freddy. His eyes stared vacantly at the wallpaper, which had little sleds and horses all over it and was peeling off in places. Nymbel just stood there with his little mouth hanging open. He was quite surprised to see Chongo.

"Wrong, Roscoe. I'm Chongo. Who the hell are you?"

"He's confused," chattered Nymbel, "I thought he was looking for you, but now I'm not so sure. All he does is keep saying "Chongo" now and then. Maybe he needs a drink too. I know I do. We been all over town lookin' for you. I heard there was a car torched over on 28th Street. It was a Ford. There wasn't no one in it though. The coppers are goin' bananas with all the rumpus all over town, and the buzz is that the Miami mob has sent some bruno up here to shake down the Southside Baboons for some hot mangos or somepn'. Meanwhile, Big Daddy Malone has taken over control of the North Side Gorillas. There may be a fullscale turf war about ta bust us all in the chops. You ask me, there is somepn' big goin' on. No small peaches here...Big Bananas! I figger that____"

Once you get a capuchin started you can just stand back and listen forever like you were listening to a waterfall. Chongo sipped his drink thoughtfully, and let the little monkey jabber all he wanted. What the hell, it was his place, right? He didn't find out much he didn't already know.

The fat chimp just stood there, looking shellshocked. After awhile, Chongo fixed him a drink and took it over. He took him by the right shoulder and steered him into a chair, like moving a big package on one of those wooden dollies, and put the drink in his hand. Fat Freddy stared at it glassily, and said "Chongo...".

"No, dummy. I'm Chongo. Drink that."

Fat Freddy obeyed, and a little warmth crept into his eyes as the booze took effect.

"You said somepn' about the Miami mob, didn'tcha, Nymbel?"

"Yeah. Talk on the street is that they sent a chief enforcer up here and he shook down Elmo over at the Southside. For what, I don't know. Then he dusted."

"The Southside drills blew up Joey's the other day when I was sittin' there tryin' to have my breakfast, and they killed Chachi. They also killed the best beanery in my neighborhood, I regret to say..."

Nymble blinked. "Chachi's dead? Jesus. He owed me a crate of bananas."

"Tough. He owed everyone in this town a crate of bananas. You can write 'em off, Nymbel, same as my car. If you don't mind, I'm gonna search this bird. His cuckoo clock don't chime no more for some reason, and I intend to find out why."

Chongo went through Fat Freddy's pockets with no reaction from the big chimp, who was staring vacantly at the bottom of his empty glass. Nymbel filled it up again for him and kept chattering busily about nothing worth noting down for posterity. How did a chimp get this fat anyway? It was disgusting.

"Hmmmm...this guy's name is Freddy. Freddy Moganoll. That rings some kind of a bell. Where have I heard of a really fat chimp named Fat Freddy Moganoll? Wait. He's got an address in...Coral Gables."

"Coral Gables?" chittered Nymbel. "Sounds like a place in the tropics to me. I bet they've got good fruit there."

"Matter of fact," said Chongo, "it's closer than that. It's right next door to Miami. What we got here is your bruno from the Miami mob unless I miss my guess, and if I do let's hope it don't shoot back."

Nymble got so excited he almost had a seizure. Hosting the Miami mob's chief enforcer was not his idea of a good idea, even if his brain was fried. "We gotta get him outa here!" he squeaked.

"Not just yet," said Chongo. "First we see if he can say anthing besides "chongo". It's a beautiful word, and I love to hear it, but it starts to wear after the fiftieth time...Hey, Freddy!" He gave fat Freddy a couple of slaps across the kisser to see if that would wake him up. It didn't help much. Chongo studied Freddy's eyes carefully.

"He ain't been drugged. He has been bopped a good one on the conk, but not hard enough to do this. Somethin' strange goin' on here. He was also tied up not too long ago, and struggled like hell to get loose. I can see the marks on his arms and legs. Someone musta given him the Chinese water torture or somethin'."

Nothing they did helped. It appeared Fat Freddy's brain was cooked, at least for the moment, so Chongo gave it up, put Freddy's papers, keys, and other stuff back in his pockets, and proceeded to fill Nymbel in on the events of the last couple of days. The capuchin might pick up something Chongo had missed.

"You're kiddin' me!" gasped Nymbel, when Chongo reached the part about Laura. "You danced with a dame? A human dame?"

"Yeah," said Chongo morosely. It would be all over town by now anyway, he figured.

"Was she tall?"

"Like a derrick. Hadda be 5'10" in her heels."

"Why did she do that? Why did you?"

"I don't know. I know I'm good lookin', but I ain't stupid. Matter of fact, she played on my pride. Like I was yellow or somepn'. You know broads...I got maneuvered into a spot and I just had to dance my way out of it, that's all."

"Geez. Five ten! Geez." Nymbel was rendered almost speechless as he tried to picture that. "She was almost hairless, right?"

"Yeah. Except for her head. I can't stand how they're so hairless," said Chongo, lying through his teeth. He could still smell her perfume and feel the cool smoothness of her hands. She had long, graceful fingers with polished nails, deep violet. Killer nails.

He briefly summed up his escape from Antonio's, leaving out the part where Laura warned him and more especially the part where she stuck up the Greaser hood in the washroom. The way Chongo told it, he had simply heard the guy coming and conked him when he came in the door. No sense implicating her in any way at this point. She was an unknown quantity.

There wasn't much more to tell except for the nice little chat Chongo had had with the angry dope through the chimney vent. That made Nymbel laugh so hard he just about fell off his chair.

By this time it was getting late. Time to get some shuteye. Fat Freddy was conked out in the armchair and Nymbel had decided to leave him there for a bit. The little monkey excused himself and vanished into the bedroom. Chongo stretched out on the couch and made himself as comfortable as possible, but he didn't fall asleep for a long time. He watched as the sky outside slowly cleared, revealing a cold crescent moon in its first quarter. The thin yellow moonlight fell on Fat Freddy's face from which loud snores were coming. In its glow Chongo noticed something else...a kind of tattoo on one of Freddy's large palms. It was a tattoo...or a brand...of a tenor bango. On the face of the bango were emblazoned three letters. "B.D.M."

"Big Daddy Malone," breathed Chongo.

The moon stared silently down and said nothing.

******

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 29 Dec 03 - 09:20 PM

Hey, this here's CHICAGO! SHE-CAW-GO!! The city Billy Sunday couldn't shut down! The place with State Street, where they do things that they don't do on Broadway! The Hog Butcher to the World! Home turf for Roger Touhy, Al Capone, Dion O'Bannon, Richard Daley I and II!! You want pansy-pants minor characters to last longer than a couple hunnert woids, you shoulda set the thing in New York or LA or some other nicey-nicey town, someplace where you won't see a man dance with his wife! But not Chicago, the town with TWO major league baseball teams, home of Ebony magazine, the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Institute, the U-505, the city of broad shoulders, the city that had a nuclear reactor lit under Stagg Field. Us guys from Downstate may not like Chicago tryin' to run the state, but it's still ours.

Got it?

Okay.

I didn't kill off Laura, did I?

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 29 Dec 03 - 10:01 PM

I'm not sure why but the roof escapade reminds me of my own rooftop adventures at the age of 10 while visiting my grandparents in Brooklyn Heights. They had a back porch on the second floor overlooking the adjacent back yards and for some reason I had the irresistable urge to hurl an egg out over the buildings into the street beyond, which I did successfully. I wonder if it landed somewhere significantly and altered someone's life? I guess I'll never know unless YOU were there walking down that street, and I still remember the name of that street so you trolls can't fool me!

Cheerily,
Charley Noble

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 12:55 AM

I follow your line of reasonin', Rap. Don't start chewin' nickels. Nymbel will get his in a coupla days, and we plug yer scene right back in at that point, no sweat. I just can't let him die before we got somepn' nice to put on his gravestone in memoriam. I hate ta think of you slavin' away over a hot typewriter for nothin'. You are dead right about Chicago, that's for sure, and any cultural details you can supply on the Windy City are well appreciated, cos I only seen the place a few times from an airplane...and that was enough.

Man, I either need a new mattress or a line of work that pays better...or both. The Cuban rum ain't workin'.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 09:02 AM

I used to make tombstones. (Really, I did.) Hows about these:

Here lies Nymble.
He wasn't as quick as he thought he was.

Or

Cap be Nymbel, Cap be quick
Betcha can't outrun a firestick.

Or

Nymbel -- gone and not worth remembering.

Or

Stranger, know as you pass by
That as you are now, so once was I,
As I am now, so you will be,
So swing by your tail and follow me.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Chief Chaos
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 10:57 AM

At the precinct Detective Lance Drecker walked slowly and calmly back to his office, calmyly closed the door and drew the blinds, laid some case files on his desk and then nearly put his fist through the heavy bag he kept in his office for just such a purpose. He'd just spent the better part of an hour being chewed out by his Captain while suffering through the worst hang-over it had ever been his displeasure to survive. Banana Whiskey was an all purpose, evil brew that could double for paint remover in a pinch. But if Man or for that matter Ape wanted to get shit-faced drunk it would do the trick but quick. Captain Quirk was of the new breed of cop. The kind that carried a diploma instead of a black jack. The kind that believed in methodical scientific police work instead of a back alley work over. Quirk wouldn't have turned to Drecker except that with Tully on vacation, O'leary out with burns suffered at his mom's farm, and Baker suffering a skull fracture courtesy of a macaque hopped up on doped bananas, he'd had no choice. His disdain for Drecker gushed like water from a broken hydrant. Something was going on in his precinct and he wanted answers.
First the baboon known as Elmo, a.k.a. "Singing Elmo", a.k.a. "Tickle Me Elmo", had been found on the pavement outside his gang's hangout. Defenstrated the report had said. Drecker had had to dust off his dictionary to look up the damn word. Couldn't the cop who wrote the report just have said Elmo had been thrown through a window? It was enough to give a guy a headache if he already didn't have one. "Smart Ass rooky" he thought. Just to be sure he was right about the rookie, he pulled out the card the rookie had given them when they'd met a week earlier. No words on it, just a drawing of a penis outlined in chalk. Dick Tracie, that was his name. Drecker was right, smart ass rookie, wouldn't amount to a hill of damn beans in his estimation.
The second piece of the jigsaw was a missing mob enforcer from Miami called Fat Freddy. The feds had put a tail on him when he left Miami but they'd lost him on Chicago's waterfront. A leading mob heavy dropping out of sight made both the feds and Captain Quirk very nervous. If Fat Freddy remained on the loose who knew what hell might break loose.
Then there was the curious shoot out between members of the West End Gorillas that nobody seemed to want to talk about. It was almost as if it was an accident the way they hung there heads in embarrassment and muttered .
Last but not least, and probably the straw that broke Quirk's back was the death of Chachi and the near outright demolition of Joeys. Drecker had liked Joeys. Bit of a greasy spoon but an all right joint for a late night cup of joe. It was with this last piece that Drecker found a break. Chachi had been a sometime associate of his friend Chongo. If anyone could help him put together these seemingly unconnected events it would be Chongo. He'd remained friends with Chongo after Chongo had been discharged from the force. Chongo didn't know it but the bat that had shattered his knee had been meant for Drecker. Chongo had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sure they acted the part of gumshoe and hard bitten cop but it was just that, an act. Drecker knew that Chongo couldn't do his thing if his clients thought that the cops would be in on everything, especially those clients that didn't want the police involved in the first place.
When the feeling had returned to his fist he put on his holstered .38 special. Six inches of cold blue steel sanctioned by the Chicago Police Dept. Nice gat for dealing with your normal human scum, but worth a shit against some overgrown hairy mountain gorilla. He reached into his desk and pulled out his personal favorite, an Army issue M 1911 A .45 caliber semi-auto pistol given to him personally by Colonel Thomson after he'd helped the Colonel after a particularly interesting R & R weekend in the Windy City. He hefted it's weight in his hand. Hell of a kick, but what you knocked down with this hand cannon stayed the hell down. Drecker slid it into a hide away holster at the small of his back. With his beat-up Fedora and his overcoat he was ready to pay a visit to his old friend.
Out in the garage he passed by the marked cars as well as the unmarked. Every primate in town wouldn't hesitate to take a pot shot at him in one of those. He stopped and got into his personal car, a 1933 Cadillac in Banana Yellow. No one knew where he'd gotten it from and everyone was smart enough not to ask. Although Drecker didn't care for the color it had been a gift to him from the original Mr. Big, The King, Mr. Kong himself. Being a cop in a world over run with gangsters meant sometimes letting your problems take care of each other. Kong had been more than happy with the tips Drecker had secretly given him and for the misdirection of the police while Kong's pride had "removed" a Chicago gang that was trying to muscle in on the Big Apple's action. Drecker had genuinely liked Kong in a way. Sure he was an island boy led astray by the bright lights and big city, but there had been something special about him. Well, at least Kong had been somebody you could look up to he grinned. Unfortunately Kong had over reached even his massive grip, probably pushed on by that dame Fay that he'd gone ape over. The feds had taken Kong out on the Empire State building while he was pulling off his biggest heist. Drecker still had the Tribune that had chronicled Kong's death under the banner headline "The King Has Left The Building". The Caddy was a custom job with a high powered engine. The only one like it in the world, let alone Chicago. In it he was as safe as a baby in even the roughest part of town. Nobody would touch it. Even if the police didn't know who it had come from, the gangs did. Even the Macaques who had a fetish for tearing off and chewing on windshield wipers wouldn't touch it out of respect for the memory of the King. Yes the King was gone, but he was not forgotten.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 11:17 AM

Fan-freakin'-tastic! Chongo went ape when he read that one. Awright!!! Captain Chaos, you are in. We was wonderin' when Drecker would show up...love the bit about the King. "Dick Tracie"? Stroke of genius. Don't fahget yer paragraph breaks next time. Some of these coconut pickers got a low attention span and they need the breaks to stay focused.

Lissen, folks...I figure Drecker is the type that's gotta stay alive to the end of this tale too...so keep it in mind. He's got a long professional association with Chongo and it ain't gonna end here. Besides, any guy that drives a banana yellow 1933 Cadillac has just got too much class to quit.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Chief Chaos
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 01:27 PM

Out of the precinct Drecker was in his element. The Caddy growled through her gears like a jaguar in heat, man and machine were one for awhile on the streets of Chicago. For the second time that day Drecker caught a break and sailed through traffic towards Chongo's office.

If only he could forget everything, the Captain, his job, his badge, and just keep driving west. He was close to retirement, but close only counted in horseshoes. When he retired they'd probably name a wing in the prison hospital after him (that was where his "informants" ended up often enough. Other than that they'd probably just as soon forget him. But being a copper was in his blood, even if he wasn't considered the best around like he had been a decade or so ago. He'd see this through to the end. Possibly my end he thought with Chicago suddenly coming unglued like it had.

Miracle of miracles there was an open space near Chongos office. Okay so he had to walk half a block, but that was better than having to hike a couple of miles or double park it out in traffic. He pulled in, buttoned the Caddy up, no sense taking the chance that some aspiring young chimp with no lessons in history would nick it. It would be returned as it had been a time or two (no word of the chimp who'd stolen it) but that chimp might manage to scratch or ding it before his elders caught up with him.

On the steps of the building a young seargent was talking to two bluesuits who turned and ran up the steps into the building.
"How ya doin Sarge", said Drecker from the sidewalk.
The Seargent turned at the sound of his voice and greeted Drecker with an "afternoon detective".   "I just sent the boy's up to check on that private dick Chongo". "We found his burned out car in the back alley and figured we better go up".
"You didn't tell 'em to bust in I suppose," growled Decker.
"Matter of fact I did," the seargeant replied. "Figured he might be injured inside and couldn't respond to our knock."
Drecker grabbed the Seargeant and hauled him to the ground just as the third floor, where Chongo kept his office, turned into dust amid the flames and smoke of a twelve stick and oven gas booby trap.
"Damnit!, thought Drecker, " another damn funeral I'm gonna hafta attend!"
He helped the shaken Seargeant up and brushed off his coat. Now where the hell was he going to find Chongo, he thought while absentmindedly fingering a whole in his fedora where a blast driven piece of debris had just missed taking his head off.


(There, I saved his butt from going up in the office explosion that I was sure was going to come sooner or later. By the way it's Chief.)

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 30 Dec 03 - 02:38 PM

Laura opened the door to the flat where she lived with her crippled mother. She entered, leaned against the doorframe, and sighed deeply.

He'd been good, that chimp. A great dancer, a swell guy. She was ashamed she'd embarassed him and nearly got him killed. Well, she'd managed to save his overcoat, an expensive one by the look and heft of it.

Well, she'd track him down and return it. Maybe even...nah, no need speculating there. She dropped it on the chair with a clunk.

Clunk?

Laura looked through the pockets and found what made it so heavy.

Maybe he wasn't the chimp he seemed. She hadn't seen that much firepower since she'd walked by Ft. Sheridan during the Saturday afternoon parade. Her eyes widened at the tommy gun.

"Laura? Honey?" came her mother's quavering voice from the bedroom.

"Yes, mom, it's me," she responded.

"RUN! Get away!" her mother screamed. "They want to kill...." There was a dull thud and the door to the bedroom was flung open. In the doorway stood a Howler with a .44 Special.

"Okay, sister," he said.

A burst from the tommy chopper cut him down where he stood, nearly cutting him in half before Laura let go of the trigger.

She gazed at the crumpled body and at the floor reddening with Howler blood.

"Are you okay, Mom?" she asked.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 12:59 AM

Editor's note: Yeah, it's "Chief Chaos". 'Scuse me, I was in a hurry. Well, just been out to see "The Last Samurai" and enjoyed it hugely, being a great lover of Japan. Now let's see...

* * * * *

Laura got no answer except some ragged breathing. "Bastards are playing hardball," she said under her breath, and edged down the hallway behind the comforting bulk of the Thompson. There was a sudden crack and tinkle of breaking glass, followed by the thud of a falling body, and a metallic bang on the floorboards.

"It's okay now," her mother called, sounding mostly just annoyed.

Laura was in the den in a moment. There was a second howler lying on the floor out like a light, with the pieces of a cheap flowered vase scattered around him. A semi-automatic 7.9 mm was still clutched in his right paw.

"Thanks, Mom. I sort of figured there'd be two of them, and you did say 'they', didn't you? I swear, the 'crippled' routine flim flams them every time."

"So...just what are you up to now?" asked her mother sharply, peering fiercely over her reading glasses, and keeping a close eye on the comatose howler.

"I can't tell you that, Mom. Believe me, I can't. I didn't think it would move this fast, and I'm sorry. Mom, you have to be out of here tonight. They will stop at nothing. Again, I am sorry, but that's the truth of the matter. It's a good time for you to go to New York, and visit Aunt Frieda. Matter of fact, there will never be a better time. I'll help you pack one bag, and then we are going to the train station...but I'm staying. Not here, though, I can tell you that. I have a place they won't know about."

Her mother glowered. "That bad, is it? Some babies never learn. Isn't this just like the old days with your dad!"

"Yeah, well, you should know...if anyone would." Laura's mom had hung out with some sharp boys when she was young, and had seen her share of tight situations. Funny how a well-off girl, brought up in a good family can get caught up in the allure of the shady side of town. But this was Chicago.

Fifteen minutes later Laura had delivered her very crabby and surprisingly uncrippled mother safely onto an eastbound train, headed south to Gary, and then onward to the Big Apple. She didn't linger, but drove north along the lakefront toward Waukegan, then west toward the small towns in the countryside.

All she had admitted to her mother was "It involves a friend. A best friend." The truth was, it involved a whole bunch of them, and best friends are hard to find when you're a very good looking young woman in a cutthroat town. These were the best friends a girl could have. That's what everybody said. They even sang a song about it, didn't they? There had to be more than a grain of truth in something like that, Laura thought. The hell of it was, she was going to have to drop out of rehearsals now. Too bad.

She hoped like hell that Chongo would get it in his head to call that number, and leave a message. She could use a smart ape with some crimefighting skills about now. Besides, she liked him. He danced well for a chimp. Specially for a chimp under severe stress.

When she got to the cabin everything was locked up tight. She drove the old Ford out of the garage, put the new Buick in where it could not be seen, and got some wood burning in the pot-bellied stove. (Roughing it again. Just like when I was a kid. This could be fun...for a day or two. Call me, Chongo. Call me.)

She would check with the answering service first thing in the morning, and keep checking. If that didn't pan out, well, there were other things a girl could do.

* * * *

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 01:32 AM

Rapaire - Great set of epitaphs! I will go with:

Cap be Nymbel, Cap be quick
But he couldn't outrun a firestick.

We'll get that carved on the poor little guy's tombstone after he gets planted.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Chief Chaos
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 12:52 PM

Damn! I knew i should have posted last night! I had my third installment all thought out and now I'll have to do a re-write! Oh well, that's how things go in the windy city!

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 12:57 PM

Hey, chief...if you can, PM me the original...I'd be curious to see what you had in mind.

That's the tricky thing about group stories. They have a way of going in unexpected directions.

- LH

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,Chief Chaos
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 04:36 PM

Chongo woke with a start. He wasn't all that unused to waking in strange places but with all that he'd been through he was a little shaky. "I should be happy to be alive at this point," he muttered under his breath. A quick scan of the apartment told him that Nymbel had already left the apartment. There was a warm pot of coffee sitting on the burner smelling like heaven on earth to Chongo's empty stomach. A snore from the general direction of the couch startled him. Just as he was reaching for his gat he remembered that Fat Freddy was also a temporary guest of the establishment. "Christ Almighty," thought Chongo, "Damn that capuchin anyway, running off and leaving me here to babysit when I've got better things to get done." Chongo lit the burner under the pot and headed for the bathroom while the coffee heated up.

One look in the mirror told him all he needed to know. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he said to no-one in particular. He did his best with a wash rag and some soap but nothing was going to improve the way he currently felt much less the ugly mug staring back from the glass. Chongo went back into the kitchen just as the perculator started perculating and filled two mugs with steaming coffee. He woke Freddy gently, wary of the big chimp, and thrust a mug into Freddy's huge paws. "Hope you like it hot and black" he said. "Chongo", replied Freddy. He seemed to have retained enough mentality to at least know how to handle a cup of coffee even if the rest of his mind seemed to be missing. Chongo flopped down on the sofa next to him and took a long swig from his mug. Generally he'd pour a shot of whiskey in to help fire it up but for now hot and black was good enough.

"Now what the hell am I gonna do" he said to the air with a sigh.
"Chongo." replied Freddy.
"Okay, first things first, I'd better find someplace to stash you". "You don't seem capable of taking care of yourself and even if you did come here to possibly wipe me from the face of the earth I can't just leave you here." "Lord only knows when Nymbel might show up again."
Freddy looked at him through the steam rising from his mug and said "Chongo!" But what to do with a huge chimp with all of the mentality of a punching bag. "That's it!" Chongo said snapping his fingers, "I'll take you to Jake's Gym."

Jake was an old friend (most of Chongo's friends didn't seem to be able to earn that distinction, mostly because of the kind of living they found themselves in rather than through any fault of Chongo's) who had taught a young chimp that there was more to life thatn petty theft. He probably saved my life doing it too," thought Chongo. Boxing was Jake's bread and butter and since Chongo had grown up he'd often pushed wayward kids and apes into Jake's mitts. He seemed to have a way with the kids. Jake's was the perfect place to hide Freddy. None of the kids there would be inclined to pass any info to any of the gangs out of respect for Jake. And since he was taking care of so many of Chicago's urchins he was fully outfitted to handle Freddy as well.

"That's one problem solved," he said, but how do I get him over there?" "Well, maybe Jake can think of a way, my brain is about as fried as yours Freddy."
"Chongo?" Freddy asked with his head cocked to one side.
"Yeah, Chongo." Chong said picking up the phone on the sideboard.
"Hey Jake! Chongo said as the phone was answered, "this is Chongo. I'm afraid I need a hand".
"Thought you might call", Jake replied. "Lot's of heavy duty crap goin' down round town. Figured you'd be in the thick of it."
"Yeah, you know me, life of the party," said Chongo, "I got a heavy sitting here with me on the sofa who's mind is off wandering somewhere else and I need a sitter for him. I also need to figure out a way to get him and me over there inconspicuous like", I'm over at Nymbel's place right now."
"I think I can help you there", said Jake, "Give me twenty or so and I'll have someone over there to pick you up. Just sit tight."
"Thanks Jake, you don't know how much I appreciate this", said Chongo.
"I've gotten pretty good at pulling you're fat out of the fire over the years," chuckled Jake as he hung up.
"Ain't that the truth," thought Chongo, "Need that mug topped off Freddy?"
"Chongo!"

About twenty minutes later a moving van pulled up on the street outside of Nymbel's. Chongo eyed it nervously through the blinds. As he was watching, the biggest ape he had ever laid eyes on climbed out of the driver's side of the van. Chongo could here the springs squealing in protest as the driver stepped onto the street. The ape went to the back of the truck and took out two huge crates hefting them under each arm. The ape looked up to where Chongo was watching through the blinds and started towards the steps leading to Nymbels. Chongo let the blinds slip slowly back into place and reached for his thirty eight. Chongo could hear the steps groaning in protest as the ape climbed them. There came the thud of two crates hitting the floor outside of the apartment and a pretty substantial boom from the door as the ape knocked twice. Chongo eased quietly over to the door, thirty eight drawn and ready.
"Who is it?" Chongo said, trying to sound like his granny.
"Jake sent me," came the simple, quiet reply.

Chongo slowly opened the door with his gat levelled at the ape's chest. And what a chest the ape had. He filled the doorway throwing a shadow on Chongo as he eclipsed the hall light.
"You Chongo?" he asked.
Chongo didn't answer partly out of suspicion and partly out of awe.
"You want help getting out of here?",asked.
Chongo slowly nodded.
"Then put that heater away before I feed it to you," said the ape. "M' names Young, Joe Young. Jake sent me to get you out of here."
Chongo looked up into Joe's grinning mug and holstered his .38. "Wouldn't have done me a damn bit of good against him anyway", thought Chongo.

Joe reached behind him and grabbed the two crates, pushing them through the door.
"Afraid this is the only way we could think of on short notice to get you from here to there."
Chongo eyed the crates dubiously and shrugged.
"Ain't zactly first class but nobody gonna see you.", "This Freddy?" asked Joe.
"Yeah, that's Freddy," said Chongo.
"Nice to meet you mister Freddy," Joe said, sticking out a mitt that dwarfed even Freddy's massive hands.
"Chongo!" Freddy said taking the proffered mitt and shaking it vigorously and kept shaking it. Joe gently disengaged from Freddy and cast a curious glance over his shoulder at Chongo. Chongo just shrugged. Joe opened the crated and Chongo was happy to find that they were lined with straw and blankets. No it wasn't first class but at least it wouldn't be too uncomfortable. He turned to help Joe get Freddy into the other crate in time to see Joe pick up the humungous chimp and cradle him like he was a little baby and place him gently into the crate. Freddy wrapped himself in a blanket and was asleep in a heartbeat with only a quiet "Chongo." and a yawn. Joe put the top on Freddy's crate as Chongo climbed into his.
"Please be careful," Chongo joked, "I've got all of my fragile valuables in here."
Joe grinned as he lowered the top of the crate. Chongo was wondering how Joe was going to get them out to the truck since he hadn''t brought a hand truck with him from the truck. Chongo got his answer as he felt his crate being picked up like so much groceries. He didn't have to guess that Freddy's crate was under Joe's other arm.

The ride over to Jakes was bumpy but otherwise uneventful and Chongo soon found himself sitting in Jakes office on the second floor of the gym.
"Enjoy the ride?" asked Jake.
"Yeah, definitely something no-one shold miss." replied Chongo, "you don't know how glad I am to be here though."
"I think I can guess", Jake said handing Chongo a cup of coffee. "The Kids have been telling me quite a few stories. You're lucky to be alive at this point."
"Don't I know it", said Chongo.
"At least you got a dance out of the deal," said Jake with a grin.
Chongo groaned, "ohhh...how did you hear about that?"
"Nevermind," Jake chuckled, "you probably won't have to worry about that anymore anyway."
"What do you mean?" Chongo asked.
" The Howlers got her marked for some reason," Jake replied, "the kids have been on about it all morning.
"Shit!" Chongo thought. Aloud he said "Jake, this shits' got to stop. I've lost some good friends, made some new enemies and I can't take much more of this.
"Well, you're safe here, relax."
"I can't", said Chongo, "I don't know why she danced with me, but I'm pretty sure that she's an innocent in this. I can't let her get rubbed out 'cause of me."
"Well I'm not sure how you're going to stop it, but if I can help just let me know." replied Jake.
"You've done more than enough, hell, you did more than enough years ago. If I'd had anyone else to turn to I wouldn't have dragged you into this." said Chongo.
"Hey, Chongo, you'll always be one of my boys," said Jake, "You've always got a home here."
"Thanks Jake, that's great to hear. I like to think I got it all handled. Its great to have somebody like you that I can trust when the crap hits the fan." Chongo always watched his language around Jake.
"I think you're forgetting somebody else," said Jake.
"Who? Freddy?" Chongo replied.
"No..., Drecker." Jake said.
Damn, I forgot to call him thought Chongo, but I gotta see to Freddy first anyway.
"What can you do for Freddy here?" asked Chongo.
Freddy was busily playing with an old speed bag in the corner.
"I have some boys that can take care of him." said Jake.
Jake opened the door to his office and called down the stairs.
"Hey! Mike, Peter, Davey, Micky! Get up here!" shouted Jake.
Four young monkeys wearing red shirts ran up the stairs and into Jakes office.
Chongo stared in disbelief.
"But they're just Monkees!" he said.
"You were expecting beatles perhaps?" replied Jake.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 31 Dec 03 - 07:12 PM

(Big grin, Chief, even with the pun sauce!)

A

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Jan 04 - 03:08 PM

Laura awakened, stretched, and rolled out of bed, her lithe form looking like flowing water.

She went into the bathroom, did the necessary things to start the day, put on a pair of slacks, blouse, and sensible shoes.

Her mother was in the kitchen and silently handed her a cup of coffee. Mom made good coffee.

"Off to the place again?" the older woman asked.

"Yes," replied Laura, "and I can't tell you about it or even where I'm going."

"Honest work?" asked her mother.

"Yes."

"Damn, girl, when are you goin' learn?"

Laura ate some toast, finished the coffee, took her coat from the peg, and opened the front door. "I'm off. Don't wait up. And that Tommy gun isn't mine, so don't hock it or sell it. Got it?"

"I won't, and I won't. Have a good time at your...job." The pause was palpable.

"Bye."

She took the crosstown bus; no howlers were in evidence. That was good, because getting rid of the last night's bodies had been a messy business. Who would have believed, she thought, that they had so much blood in them?

She got off the bus on the corner across from the atheletic field. A man carrying a briefcase and a slightly bemused air, crossed the street with her.

"Good morning, Laura," he said.

"Oh, good morning, Doctor," she replied. "How's your wife?"

"Bueno...I mean, good, thanks. I forget sometimes," he apologized.

He knocked, and a thick wooden door opened. Inside was a helmeted military policeman. He studied both of them and holstered his .45.

"Good morning, Doctor, Laura. General Groves is in the conference room and asked to see both immediately when you arrived."

"Thank you."

They walked down a corridor, stopped at another heavy wooden door, knocked and entered. A general, in uniform, stood in one corner. Several white-coated men, obviously scientists, were talking.

The general strode over, hand out, saying, "Laura! Dr. Fermi! Good morning!"

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 01 Jan 04 - 05:43 PM

Whatttt??? Hmm. Interesting notion. Looks like we've got alternate universes cooking along here side by side, and not missing a beat. What the hell, we'll sort it out when they make the movie, I guess. Gotta get some chimp for the Chongo part, but not that idiot that plays Cheetah in the Weismuller flicks. He's too small and has no gravity whatsoever. Oh...well, Mr Chongo just tapped me on the shoulder. He's always wanted to be in pictures.

* * * *

Fat Freddy was turning out to be a good sparring partner for the boys at the gym. His brain might be 98% nonfunctional, but he knew how to box. Chongo was standing around with Jake and the others, watching him go nip and tuck with a big gorilla named Alfie when Drecker came in the side door, looking exactly like he always did...casual as a loaded .44 on a marble desktop.

"Hey," said Chongo. "Good to see ya. How's business?"

"Busy," replied Drecker. "Too busy." He shook a Camel loose, tapped it a couple of times and lit up. He was taking a good look at Fat Freddy, who had just uncorked a combination that put Alfie on the ropes. The gorilla recovered fast and they danced around to the other side of the ring.

"Somebody blew up your office," remarked Drecker. "We lost two officers in the explosion...Elroy and Mahovlich. Bad break, but they shoulda known better."

"Dammit to hell!" snarled Chongo. "That's why I didn't go back there. I am starting to get really mad now. Where am I gonna get another office? For that matter, where am I gonna get another telephone sculptured to look like Fay Wray?"

Drecker drew on his Camel thoughtfully. "Damned if I know. It's hard to find curiosity pieces that tasteless, even in Chicago." He winked at Chongo. "Where'd you get him?" he went on, nodding toward Fat Freddy.

"Nymbel found him talkin' to himself over at the Salvation Army Mission. His brain's been cooked by someone whose initials are "BDM". Do I gotta tell you who that is?"

"Nope." said Drecker. "I know who it is. I'm an authority on lousy music and mobsters."

"So...got any ideas?" asked Chongo. There was a burst of applause from the apes around the ring as Freddy nailed Alfie with a right that laid him out flat on the canvas. "Chongo", said Freddy, looking around blandly, and accepting a drink of water.

"Let's have a talk in Jake's office," suggested Drecker. "I need a coffee anyway, and it's too noisy out here. Is he secure?" He nodded toward Fat Freddy.

"Yeah," said Chongo. "He's a getaway car with no steering wheel. He ain't goin' nowhere."

Jake's office wasn't all that clean, but it was simple and functional. There was a framed picture of the King on the wall, atop the Empire State Building. He was gazing off into the distance at four little toylike airplanes with the sun glinting off their wings as they banked and turned. There was blood seaping out of his chest in little drops, defiance and tragedy in his eyes. He looked unbearably lonely. The title said "Last Dance in Manhattan".

"How did you get into this?" inquired Drecker, examining his fingernails like he thought they might hide some vital piece of information. That's how they do it in the movies, and you gotta keep up with the styles.

Chongo told him everything he knew, even the part about Laura, and Drecker just sat and listened, and grunted now and then.

"Uh-huh. Word is that there's a bunch of hot diamonds in town. Enough to buy up half the waterfront. Your mister Lenny Frizzell must've tried to move 'em for someone. Maybe he figured it was his one big break. Maybe he didn't have much time to think about it. This Laura dame, I don't know her. Nada. Except for this. Some howlers are out to kill her. I'm lookin' into it. Big Daddy Malone? We can't touch him...at the moment...but he'll make a mistake. They always do. And when he does I will personally make him eat his saxophone. We got enough trouble in this town without some damned orangutan with a Napoleon complex takin' over."

Outside in the gym Fat Freddy had had a rest and was ready for more. "You're good," said Jake. "Very good. You wanna try Joe Young?" "Chongo?" said Fat Freddy. "That's what I thought," said Jake. "Joe, put on the gloves." The huge ape stepped forward quietly and got ready. He towered over Freddy, but Freddy didn't look worried in the least.

Chongo was idly checking the chamber in his .357, spinning it round and round. "There's more to it than the diamonds, Drecker. I know there is. There's bananas at stake. I mean big bananas. Bigger than that car you drive."

"Yeah? You may be right. I never seen simian activity in Chicago like this before, and I know what apes will do for fresh bananas on the off season..."

Fat Freddy didn't know it, but he was sparring with the Mighty Joe Young, biggest ape in the 48 states, and one of the fastest. Freddy did pretty well. He held his own until the dying seconds of the first round, when Joe got through his defenses with a left jab and then landed a thundering right that lifted Fat Freddy right over the ropes like Jack Dempsey and deposited him in a hairy, tangled heap on the floor.

"Whoa!" said Jake. "That'll do, Joe. This boy has earned a rest. Take off his gloves, fellas, and pour some cold water on him."

It took a minute or two for Fat Freddy to come to...and in that minute or two something happened in his shellshocked brain. The derailed freight train that was Freddy's past memory and identity somehow rearranged itself on the tracks with every car in place from the engine to the baggage car to the little red caboose with the three Oakie brakemen playing cards in the rear and dodging work. His eyes opened slowly and looked around, and he remembered everything. He remembered Big Daddy Malone. He remembered Nymbel's apartment. He even remembered seeing Drecker and Chongo go into the office a couple of minutes ago, and he remembered that he no longer had his gun. He looked around, trying to make it seem vague, and gestured in the general direction of the washrooms...

"Chongo?" Freddy was no dummy.

"Oh, you gotta go?" said Jake. "Sure thing. Bert, take him to the washroom."

Bert was a dun-coloured chimp from uptown who could box pretty well. He took Fat Freddy's paw and led him down the hall.

There were two apes standing in the hall, on security. They were packing pistols in shoulder holsters. Freddy watched them from under half-closed lids, letting Bert lead him. He went in and used the washroom. No window. Brick walls. Okay. He came back out, walked over to the security boys and said "Chongo?"

They laughed. "He's three aces short of a deck." "Yeah, but he can box."

Fat Freddy held out his hands, palms up. "Chongo..." he said, apologetically.

"Hey, look at that. You see that tattoo..." The two guards bent to look at Freddy's palm, and faster than thought he banged their heads together with a vicious crack, plucked their pistols from their holsters and hammered them both to the floor.

Bert gasped, and took a .44 slug between the eyes before he could even screech. He went down like a lead anchor.

The report of the gun echoed hollowly through the gym, and everybody froze for an instant, then pandemonium as screeching apes yelling "Kree-gah!!!" scattered in all directions.

"Shit!" spat Drecker, and he kicked open the office door, pulling his .45 out in the same motion, but keeping well to the side. Chongo dove for the floor and had his own gun out as he slid across in front of the door for an instant. He saw Fat Freddy standing in the hallway, forty feet away and Freddy saw him. They both fired. Fat Freddy ducked and felt one bullet pass by his ear and another pluck at his shoulder as he poured fire at Chongo, but the chimp was too quick. He just made a bunch of holes in the desk and the doorframe. And he had one loaded gun left now. Drecker's .45 boomed and made a nice hole in the wall right in line with where Freddy's head had been a second ago. "________ YOU CHONGO!!!" screamed Fat Freddy, and he dove straight through the second story windows in a shower of glass punctuated by two more .45 slugs from Drecker's gat and a hail of gunfire from Jake and the boys at the gym, who were all screaming "BUNDOLO!" at the top of their lungs. They woulda loved that scene in Hollywood.

Freddy bounced off the top of a parked car as a woman screamed, scrambled to his feet and leaping onto the running board of a passing Buick, which screeched to a halt. He waved his gun at the driver, a guy in a maroon suit. "Get the _______ out!" he yelled, and the man ejected the vehicle so fast that he hit the pavement running like a scared deer and ran right into the side of a moving bakery van. Freddy leaped in and ground the gears, and took off like a jackrabbit having the French fits. Drecker and Chongo had time to put two or three slugs in the back of the Buick, and then it was gone. Heading north.

"I thought you said he was secure!" cursed Drecker.

"Hell, I thought he was." said Chongo regretfully. "He's been secure for a coupla days or more. I must be the biggest sap in town. We gotta warn Nymbel!"

"I'm on the way," said Drecker, pulling out his car keys. "You wanta ride?"

"Thanks," said Chongo, "but I'll go by the grapevine. Might be faster. See ya there."

He clambered straight out a handy window and up the wall to the roof, ran across it, leaped to the next building and on to the next, rooftop by rooftop. Nymbels apartment was 14 blocks away. Below him he caught a glimpse of Drecker's Caddy cutting through the traffic like a big, shiny, yellow shark. It was heavy traffic. He would get there before Drecker.

* * * *

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 01 Jan 04 - 09:19 PM

BeeeYEAUTiful, LH!! Go, cat...go!!


A

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,CHief Chaos
Date: 02 Jan 04 - 06:32 PM

Damnit Damnit damnit!

There goes my next installment again!

Oh well, can't be helped. Be back in an hour or so.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST
Date: 02 Jan 04 - 08:23 PM

Chongo literally flew through the air on the rooftops questions flew through his mind. Why the hell didn't I see this coming? When did I get so blind? Hell I was really starting to like that bum. I guess what I heard was true about Fat Freddy. Huge on the outside with a tiny mind. Didn't he know it would have been better to stay silent and act the idiot? He could have taken out everyone and we would have all been standing there with our jaws on the floor when he did it. Why'd he have to cap those two guards? He could have just wandered out and we'd have thought he'd just gone missing. Now I gotta stop him before he gets Nymbel.

Chongo landed on top of Nymbels apartment a few minutes later and quietly stole down the fire escape quieter than any cat. He checked his thirty eight and took a peep into the room, quick like so as not to attract attention. Freddy was no-where in sight. Nybel was there in the room reading his paper, his back toward the window. Chongo tried to get his attention with gentle raps but Nymbel was enratptured in whatever story he was reading. Probably that scandal down at city hall with the mayors aid Bonzo.

Chongo let himself in through the window and started toward Nymbel.
"Hey Nymbel, get your bag packed, we need to get outta here pronto!
It was then he noticed the gag in nymbels mouth, the ropes tying his wrists to the chair, and the tears and fright in Nymbels eyes. It was also about then that Chongo noticed the barrel of a thirty eight revolver pressed to the back of his skull. Shit!

"Okay Chongo, drop ya piece like a good chimp," Freddy said, "and you can keep your mouth shut. I ain't needin no sarcasm."
Chongo's heart felt like the lead in his bullets as his gat hit the carpet.
"Okay Freddy, it's your move," he said as he turned slowly to face him.
"What are you gonna do with us?" Chongo asked.
"Da boss says you been too nosy, your messin' t'ings up for us, I been sent ta iron t'ings out and your just anudda wrinkle right now." Freddy said, waving his pistol at Chongo.
"That's the most I've ever heard you say at one time," said Chongo.
'Yeah, I owe Big Daddy big time for dat. He's next on my liddle Christmas list.
Stall for time, thought Chongo, Drecker won't let you down.
"How'd that happen anyways?" Chongo asked as Freddy tied his hands down to the chair next to Nymbel.
"Dat damn bango an his singin'. Turns ya brain ta mush. An to tink I had his inits tatooed on ma knuckles too." Freddy said.
"So what now," Chongo asked, already fearing he knew the answer.
"Now I do ya, tanks fer takin care a me but ya know too much." Freddy said.

A screech of brakes and tires let Chongo know that Drecker had arrived. He came pounding up the steps two at a time and totally out of breath by the time he got to Nymbels door.
"Fat Freddy, this is Detective Drecker of the Chicago Police Department," Drecker said. Damn! No matter how many timed he said that it always sounded corny to his own ears.
"I know you're in there, so lets talk before somebody gets hurt."
Freddy fired twice into the wall where Drecker sounded like he was standing. He was rewarded with a groan and a thump out in the hallway. Freddy turned, grinning, just in time to be met by a flying mad Chongo and the remains of Nymbels chair.
"You killed him! You Son of a Bitch! You killed him! Chongo's face was livid with rage. His canines were bare and he didn't care anything about anything except to feel Freddy's blood flowing over his own face and Freddy's pulse tapering away beneath his fingers. Freddy managed to back away after a few punches and was shakily raising his gat to take Chongo down when the door came bursting open catching him straight on the back of the skull. Freddy went down like a sak of cement. Drecker emerged from behind the door, forty five ready for action. Chongo screamed. It took Chongo a minute and then he began laughing. "Damn it! I fell for it! Oldest trick in the book and I fell for it!" He howled.
"Don't feel so bad, " Drecker said, "it worked, he fell for it to."
"And what would you have done if he hadn't?" asked Chongo.
"I ain't got an answer. I've been running on instinct since we left Jakes. I don't even know if I managed to get here without crashing the caddy." Drecker replied, holstering the .45.
"The departments gonna hafta pay for some fruit stands though," he said.
Chongo grinned from ear to ear and began untying Nymbel.
"We better get Nymbel here to a hospital, he's pretty badly shaken-up," Chongo said, "what about Freddy?"
Freddy began stirring at the mention of his name. Drecker had the .45 out and leveled in an instant,
Freddy looked up and said "Chongo?"
"Yeah we've been through the introductions already Freddy, quit the act, you've been made," said Chongo.
"Chongo?" Freddy said with tears beginning in his eyes.
"I said knock it the hell off!" Chongo screamed at him, his own thrity eight trambling in his hand.
Tears began to fall from Freddy's eyes.
Drecker reached out with his foot and kicked Freddy's gun away from him.. Freddy didn't even seem to notice through his tears.
"I think you done him again Chongo, he ain't acting. Drecker said.
"Ah for the love of Chirst," Chongo said holstering his pistol.
"I guess you've got to take him in to the jail but how are we gonna see to it that he sees justice?" he asked.
"He'll probably end up in the asylum for the rest of his life." Drecker sighed.

They dropped Nymbel off at the hospital and headed back to Jakes to see how things were going there. Chongo left Freddy in the back seat of the Caddy with the top up and windows up. No sense in taking him in to confront what he'd previously done in his present condition. The folks in the gym weren't going to friendly too him too likely anyway.

Chongo and Drecker entered Jakes and began climbing the stairs to Jake's office. Odd but there didn't seem to be anybody in the gym. Well, it had been pretty traunatic for some of the younger kids. Perhaps Jake had had the older ones take them home or someplace nice to calm their nerves. Chongos hackles raised and he was at a loss to explain it. As Drecker opened the door to Jakes office Chongo began to question if they were doing the right thing, right in time to walk straight into Big Daddy's henchmen.

In an instant, both were disarmed and tied up. Chongo noticed with a start that the girl, Laura, was there as well.
"Nice to see you again Chongo," Big Daddy said, a malicsious grin spreading across his rubbery face, his jowls shaking loosely. "We picked her up on the way here after we found her nosing around the remains of your office." "Nice of her to be waiting for us like that, don't you think?" "Oh, and that nice gentlemen over there is the guy that got you into this in the first place."
Chongo looked over and saw Mr. Frizzel, pale and emaciated and needing a shave badly as tied up and helpless as the rest.
"Now I can wrap this all up nicely and get back to my diamonds." chuckled Big Daddy.
"You mugs can go now," Big Daddy said to his lieutenants, I can handle it from here and I don't think you want to share in this." As the Guerillas left Big Daddy pulled out his Bango and began tuning. I'll probably have to shoot the humans later, they don't seem to have quite the ear for music that we apes do, but there's no accounting for taste.

Chongo had been speechless until then but it dawned on him that he was in for a horrendous treat.
"Is that what you did to Freddy", he asked.
"Why yes, I daresay he enjoyed one of my earlier performances," Big Daddy said, "as I recall it left him mindless with ecstacy!" Big Daddy laughed at his own joke.
Chongo wanted to take the Bango and shove it down his throat. There wasn't anything funny about anything that had happened and he really hated people that laughed at their own jokes. He struggled but the bonds were too tight and Jakes furniture was solid metal. It had to be to hold the heavy weights that called on Jake.
Big Daddy said, "for my first number I'd like to play a little tune my own Daddy taught me years ago." He began playing something do discordant as to be unrecognizable. From the groans from Decker it seemed that somehow Drecker was suffering more than he was. "Of Course!, he thought, my tin ear, he doesn't know. Just then there was a creak at the door and in walked Freddy. "Chongo?" he said.
"Damn, I forgot to lock the doors! Chongo thought, out loud he yelled "get out of here Freddy!"
Freddy wandered in instead while Big Daddy stopped playing and turned toward him.
"You!" he scowled, "I thought I was done with you!"
As Fat Freddy caught sight of the Bango he stopped still in his tracks and began trembling in fear.
"No matter," said Big Daddy whipping out a derringer from his vest pocket, "this should finally do for you." Big Daddy pointed it point blank at Freddy and pulled the trigger. The room erupted with noise and the flash of the four ten shell. Freddy screamed as the blast took him in mid chest.   Chongo hung his head as Freddy slumped to the floor. Big Daddy got up from his perch and walked over to where Freddy lay and prodded him a couple of times. After he got no response he turned back towards Chongo.
"Now where was I?" Big Daddy asked.
"Oh Yes!, Second Verse...altogether now"
Chongo began cursing using every invective he knew and even inventing a few as he went along.
"Now, now, no sense bringing my poor belated mother into this," Big Daddy said, "it won't save you anyhow." But Chongo kept it up, nearly drowning out Big Daddy's Bango and his hideous ballad.
"I said knock it off!" yelled Big Daddy.
Big Daddy was so distracted by Chongo's continuing diatribe that he failed to notice Freddy's huge hairy paw reaching for him. With his last breath Freddy wrenched the bango from Big Daddy's hands and brought it down on his skull with a sickening crash of bone, metal, wood, and breaking strings. "Chongo!" Freddy whispered as he lay back down, his fingers falling limply to his side, the remains of the bango jangling from his paw.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 02 Jan 04 - 10:30 PM

(Nice plot twist, Guest!)

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,Chief Chaos
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 12:38 AM

Sorry, that was me. I know its not my story to begin with but I can't help wanting to engineer a good ending. I keep having to write around what has already been contributed. My apologies to Little Hawk, I had to undo or I was undone. I think we still have a few loose threads like Kreechak and the rest of the East Side Gorillas.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,Chief Chaos
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 12:43 AM

By the by,
How many of you 'cats are actually reading all of this?
PM me, I need to know what you think of my work.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 01:09 AM

"Thank God," said Drecker, through grated teeth. "That was the worst goddam music I've ever had to suffer through, and I've heard some ugly birds sing in my time." He struggled with his bonds, but it did about as much good as trying to open a safe with a feather boa. Chongo was in a similar predicament. His feet were partly free, but all he could do was wave them around helplessly.

"Hey, shamus..." It was Laura speaking, cool as always. "If I kick my purse over there, you think you could get in it?"

Chongo took a quick look. "Yeah, I figure so. What's in there?"

"A couple of things that might help," she replied, and she hooked the handle of the purse with the toe of one shoe, and dragged it closer, got the shoe underneath, and lofted the purse within a few inches of Chongo's left foot.

He caught it neatly out of the air as only a primate can, got his other foot in play and snapped it open. There was a lot of stuff in that purse. The usual stuff. He'd seen plenty of women's purses, and it was pretty much always the same. Amazing what they could cram inside a few square inches of leather.

"No gun," he said. "That surprises me."

"Oh, there was one," she said, "but Big Daddy's gorillas took it. They left the rest, though. Just girl stuff. You know..."

"And there's a lighter," he said, with great satisfaction.

"Exactly," smiled Laura.

Chongo crisply cracked open the lighter with his right foot. It was a nice chrome one with a good feel to it. He struck a light and held it directly under the nearest taut rope he could find, producing some smoke and a very acrid smell as the rope burned. It was weakening fast. A sharp tug with his right leg and the rope gave way. That gave him more room to work. Two more ropes went and he got an arm loose. The rest was simple.

Chongo moved immediately over to Drecker and freed him, then Laura, and finally Lenny, who looked just about ready to keel over from total nervous exhaustion.

"I been lookin' for you, pal," he said to Lenny, who blanched. "No, not what yer thinkin'. I'm a primate dick. Chongo Chimp. I was hired by your wife Betty a few days ago to find you. Ever since then it's been feeding time at the zoo...in the lion cage. I'd really like to know why. Maybe you could tell me."

"And I'd like to know who the lady is," said Drecker, who was busy gathering up all the firepower he could find on and around Big Daddy. "What's your tale, sister? I know you ain't just interested in befriending chimps with blown-up cars."

"Let's keep it simple," she said, and reached into her purse. She unzipped a little compartment and took out a card, and handed it to Drecker. Chongo saw a flicker of surprise cross his eyes for just a moment. He looked at the card like he was trying to X-ray it, then looked at Laura the same way for a long moment.

"I see. This real?"

"Uh-huh." Laura nodded. "As real as the sweat on your hatband."

"That real?" grinned Drecker, smiling with his mouth, but not necessarily his eyes.

"At least that real," replied Laura, smiling back the same way.

"I could always phone the General and ask him."

"Why don't you then?"

"Well, maybe I will," said Drecker. "But first I'm phoning for some backup."

"Good idea," said Laura, and she lit up a gold-tipped cigarette nonchalantly. Drecker looked at it hungrily...or maybe at her...or maybe at both, it was hard to tell. Then he walked over to the nearest phone and started dialing.

Chongo felt oddly jealous. He didn't particularly like all this cracking wise between Drecker and the lady. Drecker could be a slick charmer when he wanted to. Hell, what was Chongo thinking about? She was human and so was Drecker, but Drecker was happily married, and...aw for heaven's sake! He must be losing his professional grip entirely to be thinking about stuff like this at such a time. Meanwhile, Lenny spilled what he knew. It wasn't much, but it tied in the baboons and the diamonds and a big shipment of bananas.

It took only 30 seconds for the sirens to be audible, and in less than two minutes the place was absolutely full of Chicago's Finest, heavily armed. It was crawling coppers.

Five minutes after that the meat wagon arrived, and they took out Fat Freddy on a stretcher. It took four men to carry it. He was a sad sight with that hole in his chest, and deader than a brass cucumber, but not yet quite as cold.

As for Big Daddy, he was coming around. Not dead yet. It seemed kind of a shame. Chongo never had liked Orangutans much.

When Big Daddy focused his eyes properly he found himself staring into a surprising number of gun barrels, and his wrists and ankles were both cuffed, size extra large. The buttons were taking no chances.

"My banjo!" he howled, lurching in the direction of the shattered instrument. He was pulled up short by several sets of hard unsympathetic hands.

He glared balefully at Chongo. "You! You stinking little shinbone of a chimp. How come your brain is still working? I played 'Blue Tail Fly' and you didn't beg for mercy. I played 'I Met Her In Venezuela' and you didn't even flinch. Are you just too stupid to listen or don't your ears work right?"

Chongo walked over. "Let me tell ya somethin', Malone. I've heard a lotta music, good and bad. I've heard cheap lounge musicians in dirty dives. I've heard alley cats fightin' inside empty trash cans. I've heard drunken fools yellin' obscenities in the street at 3 AM. I've heard the death screech of a macaque goin' down in deep water with cement boots on. I've heard things that polite, sensitive apes don't wanna talk about or even admit to, not to their wife or their lawyer or their priest or their doctor or their best friend...but I have NEVER heard anything as bad as what you played tonight and called "music". You could charm the smell off a dead skunk and bottle it with that stuff. You could gut an eel in 5 seconds without getting your hands wet. You could strip the spines off a cactus. You call yourself a musician? Don't make me laugh. You're not a musician. You're not even what I would call some kinda natural disaster. You're a freak. You oughta get a job in the circus."

Big Daddy drew in a gasping breath and bared his fangs hideously. His eyes bulged with unspeakable malice. "I'll kill you for that," he hissed.

"I wish you luck trying," sneered Chongo.

"Take him downtown," snapped Drecker. "In a locked armoured car. With tommy guns at the ready on every side. Anybody looks sideways at you, shoot to kill. We got some diamonds and some bananas to track down, and this ugly mug might just tell us where they are while he plea bargains his way into less than 80 years in the can."

"Matter of fact," he continued, "I think we better all go downtown for a bit. Anybody got objections?"

"I want to see my wife," said Lenny Frizzell. He looked miserable, yet relieved.

"You will," said Drecker. "I'm gonna call her right now, and get someone to bring her down too. Let's go."

Chongo and Laura got in Drecker's car and Lenny followed up in a patrol car. A regular convoy. Chongo had not seen this much heat on the street in Chicago in a long time. They were taking no chances.

"Looks like I earned my $300," said Chongo ruefully, "cos there is Mr Lenny Frizzell, safe and sound...but I hate to think of the expense account this time. I don't imagine they can afford it."

It was a lousy way to make a living, but it beat washing dishes or shaving stiffs, and the company was way more entertaining.

Editor's note: Well, this story could sort of end here...or it could go on and on and on...but maybe we all need a rest for a bit. Whattya think, guys?

Historical note: Big Daddy Malone got released in a relatively short time through complexities of the law that are beyond the scope of this story, and underwent a body shave, a facelift, and a deliberate change of identity, resurfacing as the well-known folksinger Burl Ives. He pursued an active musical career into the 1990's. What happened to the original Burl Ives is unknown, but it was probably not good. The ambitions of the Miami ape mob were frustrated and they pulled in their horns and went back to Miami. Lenny and Betty Frizzell moved to Dayton, Ohio and lived quietly without further incident. The North Side (or whatever side) gorillas and the baboons got in a huge firefight with each other and the Chicago police and the feds over a freighter full of bananas down at the docks. 50 million contraband bananas were siezed by the Port Authority, and quickly donated to poor apes and monkeys in the metropolitan area. This resulted in a big party for the simian contingent in town. Most of the diamonds were recovered, but seven went missing. Miss Laura M was transferred to a new job of some sort in Spanish Morocco. Just before she left, she had dinner with Chongo in a very ritzy place and asked him what it would cost to replace his office and the other stuff that had been destroyed in the Frizzell job. He said about $5000, he figured. Three weeks later he got a letter with a $7,000 bank draft in it from Spanish Morroco. That and a card. It said, "Thanks for the dance. 'L'"

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 10:37 AM

Sigh.....

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 10:48 AM

Can't PM guests, Chief. Sorry.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Chief Chaos
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 02:24 PM

You can from this post or any of the older ones. I'm between computers right now so I don't always write from the one that recognizes me.

I guess to end this story right...


Chongo sat in the new dive he had found. It was a little before closing time and the weather outside was foggy. Rather unusual for Chicago but quite appropriate to how Chongo was feeling.
The place was not too glitzy and a little less of the criminal element hanging about. He thought eventually it would become a second home to him. The bartender new all of his old favorites and he was experimenting with some new ones. Chongo looked into his nearly empty glass and thought,"Of all the gin joints in all the world she had to walk into mine." Chongo sighed and looked across the empty tables at the piano player Louis tinkling the keys. He raised his glass to Louis who returned a wink and a broad smile and then slowly shook his head. Under his breath Chongo said "Play it again Sam."

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,Chongo Chimp
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 02:35 PM

Yeah. Beats hell out of "Big Rock Candy Mountain". I may be tone deaf, but I know good mood music when I hear it. It tiptoes down your backbone like a siamese cat walkin' through a bunch of crystal wine glasses on a side table and not touching one of them on the way. Nice and light. Like stardust.

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Charley Noble
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 03:59 PM

Nice stuff, lads, and the price was right!

Cheerily,
Charley Noble

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 03 Jan 04 - 08:53 PM

Very well done, best buncha grins I've had all month!

A

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rustic Rebel
Date: 04 Jan 04 - 02:49 PM

Nothin' like some good monkey buisness to bring in the new year. Great story folks! Great humor and collaboration. Thanks
Rustic

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 08:35 AM

"... I've had all month!"

Geez, Amos, you could say the same thing about the year! 'S only five days old today!

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: GUEST,MMario
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 09:14 AM

EXCELLENT!

BTW- gibbons (an ape) were native to Japan - and evidently so were some other apes...

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Chief Chaos
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 10:16 AM

Ten Days and counting.....

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Peace
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 10:47 AM

Little Hawk: Sorry I couldn't contribute to the thread. Next time. Was busy as a man with two rattlesnakes in one hole. Good story and a dynamite idea. Hope Santa was good to you. Have a great New Year. Bruce M

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Amos
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 10:49 AM

Chief -- what happens on the fifteenth? Or are you counting from ten days ago?

A

Subject: RE: Chongo Chimp, Primate Eye (story)
From: Rapparee
Date: 05 Jan 04 - 10:55 AM

Yup...ten days from today and counting....