PARAPLEGIC KILLER CHIMP
You heard me. See, my wife cheats. That ain’t automatically bad: Her hygiene’s always been out of left field, and she craves dick like a goat on Spanish Fly. Wants it way more than I can supply if you catch my drift. Suffice it to say I’m no Ron Jeremy.
I don’t mind as long as she’s discrete. But when I find the strange’s smelly drawers in my bathroom, or I pass guys on the stoop exiting my house still tugging up their zippers and thanking me for my wife’s skills? You can imagine what goes through a guy’s pulsing brain.
So I’m reading this article in the paper about some Chimpanzee at the local Zoo that’s had a spinal injury. Poor Chimpo’s paralyzed from the waist down, they’ve even given him a wheelchair.
I get to feeling sorry for that chimp. I mean, his only job in the world was for zoo-goers to gawk at him, and to throw occasional clumps of his own shit at them to liven things up. Now he can’t even do that minimalism. He’s as useless as me. He’ll push himself around in that wheel chair until he dies, probably in protective custody from the other chimps. See, I’d heard chimps even commit murder on their own kind; they’re advanced that way just like us humans.
That’s when it occurs to me: maybe me and Chimpo could help each other out.
I rent a second story Industrial, and break Chimpo out of the zoo, wheelchair and all. I set him up in that rental and take care of him. Get him to trust me. It ain’t fun: Did you know chimps can’t be potty trained? Chimpo has a grand time crapping his wheelchair until I finally stock up on disposable diapers.
I’ll spare you the details of our training program, but graduation goes like this: At night, when no one’s around, I take Chimpo outside into the alley and give him a boost to the fire escape. See, his lower body is useless, but that upper body of his works just fine.
He climbs up hand over hand, and then crawls through the window with his legs dragging and dead. He clambers up the bed that’s in there, reaches into the gunny sack hanging from his shoulder, and pulls out the 38 that’s in there and shoots all six of the blanks it’s loaded with. He empties that pistol full of blanks into the department store mannequin I have lying under the covers. I even have a wig on the mannequin, about the color and texture of my slut wife’s hair.
Chimpo’s easy to train, he’s smart. I teach him that if he does all those steps right and in order, that he gets a pack of smokes and an eighth of Old Overcoat to suck on. Yeah, it’s hilarious watching Chimpo chain smoke and chug at his bottle. Guess I’m just lucky he doesn’t have more expensive taste in his alcohol.
So then it’s the night. I take Chimpo to the building me and my wife lived in. I listen long enough to know she doesn’t have any gentlemen callers – I can tell because she’s a screamer, the whole building knows when she’s entertaining.
But our apartment is silent as the tomb.
Up the fire escape and through the window Chimpo goes, only this time the 38 in his bag is loaded with live rounds. I wait for the gun shots signaling my wife’s departure to hell. When those shots come I’ll fade and Chimpo will be left holding the bag, literally I suppose.
I wait, but no shots come. So I creep up the fire escape and peek in the window. It’s dim inside, but something’s happening on the bed, shapes are thrashing around. Then the screaming starts.
It’s my wife screaming, and Chimpo too, like they’re killing each other. Then the lamp next to the bed goes on and I see what’s happening in my bed.
My wife has a strap-on dildo buckled around Chimpo’s waist and she’s riding him cowgirl style; staring me right in the eyes. Fuckin monkey’s dick may be limp and paralyzed; but he knows exactly what’s happening, they’re both screaming jungle love at each other. As I cringe away, I realize she knows I’m out there, and she turned on the light deliberately, she wants me to see.
Those monkey house orgy screams mock me as I stumble away down the street.
But never say die, right? I heard about this gorilla at a Zoo in the next town over. Old Kong there has a spinal cord injury like my Chimpo, but way worse. Kong’s a quadriplegic; they’re training him to make his electric wheelchair go by blowing in a plastic tube. Kong is especially useless, just like me. Just like Chimpo before my wife turned him into a sex toy.
I’ll break Kong out of his zoo, I’ll put a remote control unit in his electric wheelchair and then I’ll strap a plastic explosive suicide vest on his chest, just like those towel-heads do over in Iraq.
Problem is, I’ll only be able to get at Chimpo and my wife when they’re in a handicap access area -- but that's where they'll be anyways, right?.