Allan Miller

Apprehension turned to amusement as they sat picking fleas and scratching their privates. But while our attention was taken with their monkeying around, we hadn’t noticed the baboon sneaking up behind us. It grabbed my rucksack and ran into the scrub.

I chased after the hairy snatcher, hoping it would discard the bag after discovering it didn’t contain food, but the baboon and bag, along with my money and passport, were gone. It was a major pain in the arse, yet we managed to sort things out enough to continue with the rest of our holiday.

#

A month after we returned home, I received a postcard from Thailand. There was no message, so I assumed the sender accidentally posted it before writing it out. The following month, another postcard, this time from Hong Kong, again without anything written on it. I wondered if it was someone’s idea of a joke, but cards kept turning up: from Vietnam, Australia, Argentina, and Mexico.

Then INTERPOL got in touch and told me my missing passport had been linked to a number of crimes, including robbery, fraud, forgery, and acts of gross indecency. 

If the postcards were a joke at my expense, the joke was also on the criminal globetrotting under my identity, because they provided a pattern of their movements. I informed INTERPOL that the last card had recently arrived from France.

A few days later the investigator called back to say my doppelgänger had been apprehended, but had unfortunately escaped custody. I demanded to know how this scumbag was able to remain one step ahead of the authorities. The line went silent before they informed me that my passport was being used by a baboon.

It hit me that this was indeed an elaborate wind-up. I tried to find the funny side, but I’d been having sleepless nights, not to mention the strain it was putting on my marriage, so I cut off the call. When I discovered who was behind it, there was going to be trouble, but that was the last I heard about it… until last week. 

#

I went to work as usual, but my colleagues were shocked to see me. My boss said it was because of my “disgusting” behaviour the previous day. I failed to see what was so bad about taking time off for a dental appointment, but she claimed I’d smashed my computer, thrown a chair through the window, chased Arlene from Accounts with a banana, and shat in my desk drawer. 

Before I could refute the allegations, security frogmarched me from the building. I drove home in a daze. As soon as I got in, I poured myself a whisky, and called to my wife. When I didn’t get an answer, I went upstairs. I’ll never forget what I saw. She was in bed — with a baboon! 

She screamed. I screamed. The baboon screamed. When the screaming stopped, my wife looked at me, then at the baboon, and before I could ask her what the hell was going on, she asked, 

“What the hell is going on?”. Then she turned to the baboon and said, “You never told me you had a twin!”

The monkey interloper clambered on to the wardrobe, sprang off and swung from the ceiling light while presenting his backside, and making obscene gestures with his free hand. My wife pulled the covers over her head, at which point a couple of men wearing safari suits burst into the room. One of them holding a rifle, the other a giant net.

I felt a sharp stinging in my neck, and just had time to feel the end of the tranquilliser dart before everything went black. When I woke up, I was in here with you.

#

I looked at my unresponsive audience. Perhaps they weren’t listening because they’d heard my story a hundred times before, although it was more likely to do with them being a group of baboons, or flange to give them their correct collective noun.

The primates with their dog-like muzzles, close-set eyes, and protruding buttocks, lazed under the shade of a large tree. A mid-ranking female nursed her infant, two juveniles fought over a piece of fruit, and an elderly male played with his genitalia.

‘Why do I bother? You’re just a bunch of damn dirty apes!’

I put my head in my hands and stared at the dusty ground. A female sat behind me and began to pick nits from my hair. I flinched, then relaxed, looked over my shoulder and summoned up half a smile. 

‘Sorry about the dirty apes remark,’ I mumbled apologetically. 

The baboon carried on grooming, unaware of my reference to a classic 1968 sci-fi/adventure movie. 

Suddenly there was a commotion amongst the flange. The alpha male leapt amongst his subordinates, screeching and throwing dirt into the air. A vehicle was approaching. He whooped and shook his head. The troop came to attention. I remained on my tree stump. 

The alpha reared up on his hind legs, baring long canine teeth in his powerful jaws.

‘Okay, okay,’ I replied, getting to my feet as the car stopped.

The family inside laughed at the inquisitive-looking apes surrounding their vehicle. The alpha barked and jerked his head.

‘I am not an animal,’ I protested. ‘I am a human being. I am a—’

He ran at me, forcing me to climb onto the bonnet of the car. The family squealed with delight.

‘This is so humiliating,’ I whispered to myself.

I unbuckled my belt and dropped my trousers. At first, I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with the occupants of the vehicle, but eventually I looked up tentatively and, with an expression of abject despair, mouthed the words, ‘Help me!’

The little girl inside the car pointed. ‘What’s the funny little man doing?’

‘It’s not a man, dear,’ replied her mother. ‘It’s a baboon.’

I winced. 

A tear rolled down my face. 

And I shat on the bonnet of the car.