This was a parody of me written some years ago by the Silverware Thief.
From The Files of
(Investigator at Large)
The Case of Ape-Man
After my hair-raising and brilliant investigation into the dark and subversive life of Crazy Ivan, I thought a well-deserved vacation was headed my way. Like Tahiti, maybe. Someplace away from my office, and The Ethereal Land, two locations where yearly bathing is the norm. Alas, I was in for a hard lesson. There is a reason why this place isn’t Washington D.C. It is the same reason why this den of savagery is five miles beyond the last mark of civilization. It’s the reason why my pay is so low, and I don’t get paid vacations when I deserve them. I still haven’t quite figured out what the reason is, but it’s there.
Life here is no vacation. In fact, it seems, it is a life without vacation. But I didn’t complain when the Boss-man waddled into my office and slapped a folder onto my desk, a folder far too thick to be the permission slip for my well-deserved quiet time. I didn’t complain because, repugnant as Boss-man can be without a bath, he’s cleaner than your squeaky clean aunt when compared to those governmental types down in D.C. Anytime I think of quitting my job as top snoop in this joint I remember my muckraking years down at the hill. Up here might not be the bastion of civilization, but we don’t have drive-by shootings either.
I don’t complain about my job, but maybe I would have if I’d known what I was getting into when the Boss-man gave me the case. We don’t have greasy smiles or deranged interest groups up here, but there are some things in this wild land that a wise man doesn’t get himself into. But I wasn’t wise when that folder was laid on my desk.
“You got a job,” Boss-man said. “A big one, so keep it hush-hush.”
“What’s that?” I said. “Testing the beaches of Tahiti?” Boss-man doesn’t pick up on my hints.
“No,” he said. “You heard of the Loch Ness monster?”
I told him I wasn’t going to swim around in some muddy lake waiting for some monster to bite my backside.
“This is even better,” Boss-man said, getting excited, rubbing his hands together. “We might have us the link to prehistoric humanity–Yeti, Abominable Snowmen, and those Neanderthal fellows. There have been reports of some such beast up around Ethereal Land. They call him Ape-Man. I want you to go and check it out. See if we have a story here, right under our noses, or if it is all a hoax.”
Then boss-man walked out of the room, leaving me with my mouth hanging open. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him I might not want to find my long-lost relatives.
But I didn’t have a choice, now. Boss-man had left, and I was stuck with the job. I looked over the file Boss-man had given me, and felt myself growing more uneasy with each piece of information. By the time I’d finished reading I was decidedly uncomfortable. For a moment I thought about quitting on the spot, but I gave it up quick-like. Better to go dig up the face of my past than go to D.C. and see the face of my future. Fortifying myself as best I could, I headed out toward Ethereal Land, hoping with all my heart that it was all just the biggest hoax mankind’s pea-sized brain had ever invented.
The Ethereal Land, in case you didn’t know, is located in the depths of the wild savage land, far from help or humanity. I tried not to think about that on the way, but I had a long time to think. There are no passable roads that link this collection of tribal huts to the rest of the world, so all of the few visitors must make the trek by foot.
It was nearing midday when I reached The Ethereal Land. I was met by some of the natives. They were suspicious after the events of my previous visit, but their curiosity overcame their distrust. They listened attentively as I explained why I had come. Once they understood their curiosity turned to fear.
Apparently Ape-Man was well known, and feared, in Ethereal Land.
They described him as a giant, hairy beast that spends most of his time shambling through the forest around The Ethereal Land. They said he was an unpredictable and unstable animal, a creature they keep appeased with regular offerings of spaghetti and tomato sauce (with large chunks of ground meat and lots of basil and oregano). When I suggested that they take me out to meet this apeish man they refused with fear and much gesticulation.
Now terrified, but unable to turn back, I bribed several of the natives with Twinkies–the foundation and poison of modern society. I now wanted the natives for more than simple guides; I wanted what protection they could offer, and the chance that the Ape-Man would devour them first, if he attacked, allowing me to escape.
Once the natives had ingested enough Twinkies to no longer be in control of their reasoning faculties, we set off. I followed behind, nervously clutching my sidearm, and wondering what my last words would be. The natives led, but for all their sugar delirium they still seemed to possess enough common sense to be a little uneasy.
We had not gone far into the forest before we began to hear sounds. There was shuffling and snapping, dry twigs breaking under a heavy weight. Huffing and puffing, snorting and sighing. With each new guttural sound of disgust for the idiocy of the world and the residents therein, my guides grew increasingly nervous.
Then, with a tremendous crash, the great Ape-Man appeared. Unfortunately for me, terror cleared the sugar-fogged minds of the natives, and they acted more quickly than I. Leaving me frozen in the terror and horror of the vision I beheld, the natives fled into the brush.
When the Ape-Man grabbed hold of me I was sure I was a goner. His foul breath washed over my face, making my head reel. Sweat poured from my brow, soaking into the collar of my shirt. The Ape-Man grumbled and growled at me, unintelligible words that could have been a greeting or a threat, for all of my limited knowledge.
Though I was in a tight spot I kept my wits about me. I remembered that this foul beast had a special weakness for spaghetti with tomato sauce, and against such situations as these I had packed just such an appeasement offer. No Twinkies for this brute.
Quick as a flash, before the Ape-Man could eat me, I pulled out my plate of spaghetti. It had lots of basil and oregano. I hoped it would work.
It worked. This Neanderthal creature must have originated from Italy, its craving for this food is so intense. Like a wild beast tearing apart its prey, the Ape-Man attacked the plate of food. I was left to shield myself as best I could.
However, there was one problem I had not anticipated . . .
The Ape-Man loved his spaghetti, and he was not happy when he found it all gone. His lust was such that I was forced to defend myself with my sidearm until his passion had passed.
Once the wave of desire had abated, the Ape-Man was calm enough for the interview to continue. With many promises that, once I was finished, I would give him another plate of spaghetti, he agreed to answer a few questions. Before we began our conversation I managed to capture the hairy countenance of my subject on my secret camera.
It soon became clear in our conversation that, though Ape-Man knows nothing about tact, consideration, diplomacy, social etiquette, or the propriety of scratching one’s back in a public setting, he is a fountain of knowledge on history, economics, and other such obscure topics. He being a Neanderthal sort, I was not surprised by his grasp of the prehistoric times of the 1800’s and 1900’s. But I was intrigued by his profession of knowledge on all things related to wealth, and many other unrelated subjects of wisdom.
When the Ape-Man realized my interest he took me back to his cave, located in the depths of the forest. There, on the cold stone walls, he had scrawled many of his sage ponderings, hidden from the world and its derisive scorn. He continued to expostulate in my presence, and I tried to take notes as best I could. But his writing was difficult to understand (my understanding of written Swahili being limited,) and I ventured to mention this, along with some of my disagreements on Euro bonds and oil investments.
It was then that I learned of a more sordid side of the Ape-Man. I more than learned of it, I felt it in a very personal way. The Ape cannot countenance the idiots who cannot understand, or do not agree with, his espostulations. Ape-Man finds it his moral duty to enlighten them in the most blunt manner.
The Ape-Man’s enlightenment worked most brilliantly. By the time he was finished with me I could see the light. A lot of lights, actually. They were swimming around my head, flashing and sparkling like a 4th of July celebration. I was barely able to babble my thanks for the kind persuasion and fetch the wrathful giant another plate of spaghetti.
Then the end of my investigation had come. I gathered up the various parts of my person that had been scattered about and made a quick exit while the Ape-Man devoured his spaghetti. I had learned a lot, and much of it my aching skull would not soon forget.Ape-Man does exist. He is not the lost link to prehistoric civilization, but rather of descent from Crazy Ivan (though perhaps a genetic throw-back). If you meet him, you know what to do.
Lots of spaghetti, and no arguments.