October 22nd, 2007
The Showcase: “Gorilla gorilla gorilla” by Melanie Datz
“Gorilla gorilla gorilla” by Melanie Datz
published in Night Train
“Gorilla gorilla gorilla” was my first introduction to Melanie Datz’s work, and based on her writing in this piece, I can’t wait to read more from her. She writes in an easy gait, with perfect clarity, and a freshness of perspective that’s, well, refreshing.
I have a penchant for quirky topics or characters, and in “Gorilla gorilla gorilla,” Melanie gives us both. In this short story, Gil, by day, by profession, is “Gorilla Guy,” an ape-suit-wearing husband and father of two. He acquired this impersonator job by accident, and yet it quickly consumed him. In his gorilla costume, Gil is free. He’s not just another suit, an ordinary corporate lawyer. He’s not the tired commuter at the end of the day, or the father on the playground who doesn’t play with his kids. No, Gil is the guy who eschews all of that and more. The last thing Gil wants to be is mundane, or a fake. And yet there are those who see him as nothing but…
Check out these excerpts, read the author’s comments below them, and click on the link above to read the entire story.
*
The papers always want to know how he became Gorilla Guy. “God told me to,” he told the Reader, but to the reporter from the Tribune he said, “It came naturally. My mother’s a primate biologist, and I was raised with a lowland gorilla as a research project.” The truth is so banal no one would be interested: He was an out-of-work actor who took a job handing out flyers for Gorilla Gym. Just standing on a corner giving flyers to commuters bored him, so he started tap dancing and clowning around. People stopped to watch; he made them smile and they tossed money to him. Gorilla Guy was born.
*
Gil envies the gorillas, the contented way they lounge, grooming each other, inside their glass enclosure. Their mates don’t pressure them to change, to become someone else with a different life. Sometimes, sitting in the ape house watching JoJo and Kwan rule their family groups, he thinks the gorillas are lucky. They don’t want Land Rovers and houses in Winnetka. They don’t want to impress their coworkers and neighbors with things. The most impressive thing a gorilla has is itself, and that’s enough.
*
Slumped in his seat, Gil feels invisible. He wishes he were in costume. To be inside the gorilla suit is strange and wonderful: He is both anonymous and known, and the normal rules no longer apply. When Gil puts on the suit, people no longer see him as fully human, and that grants Gorilla Guy absolute freedom. Inside the suit, he makes lewd gestures at pretty young women, and they giggle and blush. He can put a black-gloved hand on their asses, hug them, mock hump them, rubbing his padded, furry crotch against their hips. Were he to do these things on the street without the suit, they would call the cops, or haul out the pepper spray. The gorilla suit means it’s a joke, not to be taken seriously, and they pose for photos with him, then slip him their phone numbers. Sometimes, the pretty women even grab his crotch in return, winking and asking, “Whatcha got under there, Gorilla Guy?”
Author’s Comments:
For six years, I commuted through Chicago’s Union Station. Almost every morning, rain, snow, or sun, there was a guy in a gorilla suit at Adams Street and the Chicago River, handing out flyers for Gorilla Gym. Sometimes I saw him in the evening, walking along the river, smoking a cigarette, or carrying groceries in a plastic bag. Every time I saw him I thought, “Who is that guy, and what’s it like to be him?” But there didn’t seem to be a story about a tired old guy (I saw him without his gorilla head one time) handing out flyers.
Last August, I quit my job and went back to school. I haven’t see the guy in the gorilla suit since. But I had one of those bizzaro days, where everything was slightly off kilter, including people all around the Loop in orange cow costumes for some stunt that was half marketing gimmick, half street theater. The next day I sat in a coffee shop, and the first part of Gorilla gorilla gorilla just poured onto the page in a steady stream.
Filed Under: The Showcase |
published in Night Train
“Gorilla gorilla gorilla” was my first introduction to Melanie Datz’s work, and based on her writing in this piece, I can’t wait to read more from her. She writes in an easy gait, with perfect clarity, and a freshness of perspective that’s, well, refreshing.
I have a penchant for quirky topics or characters, and in “Gorilla gorilla gorilla,” Melanie gives us both. In this short story, Gil, by day, by profession, is “Gorilla Guy,” an ape-suit-wearing husband and father of two. He acquired this impersonator job by accident, and yet it quickly consumed him. In his gorilla costume, Gil is free. He’s not just another suit, an ordinary corporate lawyer. He’s not the tired commuter at the end of the day, or the father on the playground who doesn’t play with his kids. No, Gil is the guy who eschews all of that and more. The last thing Gil wants to be is mundane, or a fake. And yet there are those who see him as nothing but…
Check out these excerpts, read the author’s comments below them, and click on the link above to read the entire story.
*
The papers always want to know how he became Gorilla Guy. “God told me to,” he told the Reader, but to the reporter from the Tribune he said, “It came naturally. My mother’s a primate biologist, and I was raised with a lowland gorilla as a research project.” The truth is so banal no one would be interested: He was an out-of-work actor who took a job handing out flyers for Gorilla Gym. Just standing on a corner giving flyers to commuters bored him, so he started tap dancing and clowning around. People stopped to watch; he made them smile and they tossed money to him. Gorilla Guy was born.
*
Gil envies the gorillas, the contented way they lounge, grooming each other, inside their glass enclosure. Their mates don’t pressure them to change, to become someone else with a different life. Sometimes, sitting in the ape house watching JoJo and Kwan rule their family groups, he thinks the gorillas are lucky. They don’t want Land Rovers and houses in Winnetka. They don’t want to impress their coworkers and neighbors with things. The most impressive thing a gorilla has is itself, and that’s enough.
*
Slumped in his seat, Gil feels invisible. He wishes he were in costume. To be inside the gorilla suit is strange and wonderful: He is both anonymous and known, and the normal rules no longer apply. When Gil puts on the suit, people no longer see him as fully human, and that grants Gorilla Guy absolute freedom. Inside the suit, he makes lewd gestures at pretty young women, and they giggle and blush. He can put a black-gloved hand on their asses, hug them, mock hump them, rubbing his padded, furry crotch against their hips. Were he to do these things on the street without the suit, they would call the cops, or haul out the pepper spray. The gorilla suit means it’s a joke, not to be taken seriously, and they pose for photos with him, then slip him their phone numbers. Sometimes, the pretty women even grab his crotch in return, winking and asking, “Whatcha got under there, Gorilla Guy?”
Author’s Comments:
For six years, I commuted through Chicago’s Union Station. Almost every morning, rain, snow, or sun, there was a guy in a gorilla suit at Adams Street and the Chicago River, handing out flyers for Gorilla Gym. Sometimes I saw him in the evening, walking along the river, smoking a cigarette, or carrying groceries in a plastic bag. Every time I saw him I thought, “Who is that guy, and what’s it like to be him?” But there didn’t seem to be a story about a tired old guy (I saw him without his gorilla head one time) handing out flyers.
Last August, I quit my job and went back to school. I haven’t see the guy in the gorilla suit since. But I had one of those bizzaro days, where everything was slightly off kilter, including people all around the Loop in orange cow costumes for some stunt that was half marketing gimmick, half street theater. The next day I sat in a coffee shop, and the first part of Gorilla gorilla gorilla just poured onto the page in a steady stream.
Filed Under: The Showcase |
