Monkey Time

Bluto is a complete buffoon. Stella knows it, Duane knows it, we all know it. But for some reason, we accept his reign of stupidity anyway.

Bluto is a bully. He uses his own urine to fluff up his fur and a mixture of dirt and feces to cover his bald patches.

The zookeepers bring us plenty of bananas, dates, water, apples. Everything we could ever need. But Bluto still has to hoard it all and divy it up according to his whimsy like a king.

I asked Stella why some of the females still go for Bluto and she told me it’s mainly because they’re idiots, but it’s also instinctive. Bluto is big, strong, and dominating, and he always manages to hoard most of the resources. This makes him an asshole, but it also makes him a good provider. Or at least that’s how the females see it.

But in reality, the zookeepers are the providers. And if we were out in the forest, the women would be doing most of the providing while Bluto lorded over us and urinated on himself.

I told my friend Duane I was sick of Bluto. Something had to be done. This entire set up was asinine. Here we were in a great enclosure. Roomy with plenty of tire swings to play on and trees to climb and comfortable little caves to nap and fuck in. We could be living in paradise. But that damn Bluto was ruining it for everyone. Maybe in our distant past, his kind of crap was necessary, to keep the rowdies in line. But nowadays, Bluto was the only rowdie. And he looked absolutely ridiculous with his patchy, stinking fur. We should be ashamed of ourselves, for ever letting that dumb bastard get as far as he did. What kind of example was he for our children? Technically, they were all Bluto’s children, but still, he was a bad example for them. And he was doing irrevocable damage to our gene pool.

Duane laughed it off. It was easy enough to sneak fruits while Bluto was asleep or mating, and we could even sneak some of the more evolved females like Stella and Angela. So what was the problem? We humor Bluto and his moron followers and let the next generation of Blutos worry about it.

This was deeply unsatisfying to me, but I knew he was right. More of us were against Bluto than were with him, but the ones who were with him cared a helluva lot more than the rest of us. They admired Bluto because they were idiots, too, and they liked the idea of a fellow idiot lording it over everyone. What did it matter? The food and water still arrived, the feces, except for what Bluto smeared onto himself, still got removed. So fuck it. This place could run itself. The former eggheads in charge, pretending it was all so complicated, it was obviously just a big scam, man! Bluto is doing it, and look at Bluto. Hooray for Bluto! Hooray for us!

The alpha does all the procreating. At least technically, thems the rules. But every now and then, someone like Duane impregnates someone like Stella or Angela and a few months later, a little Duane pops out. Everyone knows what’s up. But most of the alphas of the past were wise enough to let it slide. Hell, they loved fucking, they liked having kids sometimes, and a little extra variation was good for the gene pool. The world needed sneaky little fuckers like Duane, too. So fuck it. Why not? You can’t be bellowing and urinating on yourself 24/7. Food is going to get stolen and males and females are going to fuck. What can you do?  

So they let it slide.

Bluto, unfortunately, could never let anything slide. If he caught you stealing a banana, he would hound you until the end of time. The one thing that stupid mutherfucker could remember was a slight. And if he even suspected that a baby wasn’t his, he would kill it and eat it right in front of you. It sounds awful and disgusting and it is, but it was kind of an ancient tradition and his sex starved followers loved it.

Watching the kids one day, I noticed Bluto Junior (I’m not sure if his name was Bluto, but he was the biggest, stupidest one of the bunch) eating an entire banana, peel and all. Some of the other kids were laughing at him. One of them tried to show him how to peel the banana. As Bluto Junior watched, something must have clicked in his mind, that the other kids were laughing at him for being so stupid. So he grabbed the banana and smeared it in the kid’s face, then screamed and beat at him with his fists. From that day on, all the kids ate bananas the same way he did, peel and all.

A similar thing happened with the tire swings. Bluto Junior just bit them and smacked at them, so the other kids followed suit.

The zookeepers must have noticed this. Instead of getting fresh bananas, we started to get pre-peeled, pre-mashed slop like baby food. And Bluto, genius leader that he is, still insisted on handing it out. It was unhygenic as hell, especially with him playing with his feces all the time, but what can you do?  

They also took down the tire swings. They just weren’t fun anymore. They made the kids aggressive and scary. And judging from the banana business, stupid, too.

Next they sealed off the caves, which meant no sex for anyone but Bluto. The alpha can fuck wherever he wants, the rest of us had to be sneaky and hide. This no fucking business might have been enough to trigger a revolt, but we were all a bit weak and sickly by then, probably from eating so much of Bluto’s shit.

H. Seitz

H. Seitz

H. Seitz is the author of the Sci-fi novella "Iron Manimal" and a contributing writer at The Skull Island Times.
H. Seitz

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