––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– It was looking right back at me, making some weird clicking noise, its hairy belly stretched and saggy like scrotum. ‘What is it, a fucking baboon?’ Dennis smiled and took a celebratory swig from his can. ‘A Yellow Madagascan Belangro Baboon to be precise’, he said grinning. ‘Very rare.’ I surveyed the room. The floor was strewn with ripped magazines and clothes. A set of blinds clung crookedly to one side of the window frame and beached pot plants lay stricken on their sides. The bed looked like an incontinent geriatric had died in it. The baboon sat contentedly picking at its feet. Its two giant sunken eyes looked innocently back at me, heavy-lidded and primal, pupils black as pool balls. He blinked and tilted his head, flaring the wet nostrils at the end of his snout. ‘Jesus fucking christ.’ ‘Amazing isn’t he?’ said Dennis. ‘Dennis, what the fuck’s going on?’ ‘What?’ ‘What do you mean what? ... there’s a fucking baboon in my room?’ ‘Yellow Madaga–‘ ‘Yeah I got that. Why?’ ‘Well he’s got to live somewhere.’ ‘So you put him in here? Are you kidding me?’ Dennis shrugged, ‘You’re never here. I didn’t think you’d mind.’ ‘Well I do fucking mind. What do I do next time Shelly’s over, suggest a fucking threesome?’ I stopped. ‘Dennis, it’s looking at me.’ ‘His name’s Billy,’ said Dennis, ‘He likes you, I can tell.’ ‘Dennis, don’t move.’ ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine as long as you feed him the cornflakes.’ ‘Cornflakes?’ ‘Oh yeah, they love ‘em,’ said Dennis. ‘Jesus, he fucking stinks’, I said. ‘Shhh! He can hear you. You know what that stink is?’ he asked. ‘Baboon shit?’ ‘No.’ Dennis’ eyes brightened, ‘Easy money. That smell is the sweet stench of virgin sterling my friend. This baboon is going to make us a pretty fortune.’ ‘How?’ I laughed. ‘Monkey spunk that’s how.’ ‘What?’ ‘Ape jizz. Chimp chuff. Baboon seed. Simian love sauce. Did you know that a teaspoon of Yellow Madagascan Belangro Baboon’s semen will get you higher than Edmund Hillary. It’s the sacred hallucinogen of Madagascar’s native tribe. They take it to talk to God. I did some yesterday night,’ Dennis’ eyes whirled, ‘when I got home Roy Orbison was in the kitchen with a lamb shish. We played drinking games for a bit then I turned into a microphone and he sang Pretty Woman through me. It was incredible.’ I was too amazed to respond. ‘This little fella is my ticket out of here. I’m going to put Billy boy out to stud and bottle it,’ Dennis continued, ‘Summer Of Spunk they’ll call it. He’ll also make a great pet. Won’t you little guy?’ I flinched as Dennis stepped over and tickled the baboon’s chin. Billy rolled his head fondly towards Dennis. ‘See? Good as gold. What d’you think?’ he grinned. ‘You’re going straight to prison, that’s what I think.’ ‘That’s the beauty of it,’ said Dennis, pleased, ‘Yellow Madagascan Belangro Baboon’s semen is legal.’ ‘What about ape abduction and the sexual abuse of a primate?’ Dennis rolled his eyes, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ The baboon was now scratching his arse with a rolled up copy of The Evening Standard. It purred happily. Cornflakes scattered at his feet like rose petals. ‘You’re talking about performing a sex act on a primate for money. I don’t think it’s me who’s got the problem.’ ‘Do you want in or not?’ asked Dennis, rolling up his sleeves. ‘You’re going to do it now?’ ‘Right now.’ ‘I’m not touching him.’ ‘Suit yourself. More for me.’ Dennis pointed to the door. The thing was like a giant hairy cancerous bollock with eyes. ‘I’m telling you, it’ll rip your arm off soon as look at you.’ Dennis waved me away. He gauged his weight as he sat down on the corner of the bed and turned to the baboon. ‘OK Billy boy, tonight’s your lucky night.’ ‘Mate I can’t believe you’re doing this.’ ‘I’ve done worse.’ Dennis replied. He put his arm around the baboon and dropped his hand gently onto its knee. I braced myself for the animal rage. The banshee attack. Nothing. Billy sat there gurgling. I could see that belly rising and falling with its breath, the sabre teeth in phlegm. Dennis looked at me, unsure. ‘Hmmm. Usually they go for the hug, you know, on TV.’ And then he did it, Dennis jabbed his hand down into the thick hair between the big ape’s legs. Billy purred. ‘Help me will you?’ said Dennis, his wrist deep in baboon fur. ‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked, ‘Talk dirty to him?’ ‘Distract him.’ I tried to get the baboon’s attention while Dennis rummaged about in its crotch. ‘Hurry up will you?’ I said as I stroked Billy’s head. ‘I’m trying,’ said Dennis and delved again, ‘I can’t find it.’ ‘For fuck’s sake how hard can it be?’ ‘Exactly the problem.’ ‘Jesus, give him here.’ I said. I put my hand down between Billy’s legs, my fingers scrabbling about over his warm belly in search of his apehood. Finally I got hold of something. ‘I got it!’ It was hot and gristly. I traced my hands down and then suddenly it was wet. A hot wet hole, like its snout. I don’t remember what happened next. There was a screech straight from the pits of hell. There was a flash of nails and teeth and fur. The baboon swung across the room and dived head first through the window. Shrill winter air whistled through the room. ‘What the did you do?!’ cried Dennis, ‘He’s fucking escaped!’ I was shaking. I was down the hallway. I was condensating up to the ceiling. I was looking down on me. ‘What happened? What did you do?’ Dennis demanded. I slumped back against the wall. ‘Billy ain’t a fucking boy Dennis.’ ‘What d’you mean?’ I told him and then threw up on the carpet. | Originally written for Turbochainsaw Magazine. All words © Paul Dixon 2009 |