I arrive at the safari camp for lunch with the manager, our first meeting of the year since his return from holiday. As we sit down to dine, I notice a wart on his nose.“A bad omen,” I think.
“Don’t worry about my wart,” he says, touching it with his forefinger. “I’m getting it seen to this afternoon.”
“Why would I worry?” I reply nonchalantly. “I barely even noticed the little noseberry.”
“Oh?” he remarks quizzically, raising his eyebrows. “You don’t think it’s a bad omen?”
“Poppycock!” I exclaim. “It takes more than a bean on the beak to spook a gorilla. I’ll send round a chimpanzee tomorrow to check you’re OK.”
I leave the safari camp, pondering the year ahead. I won’t deny occasionally having strange gut feelings (other than wind), but I never let them affect my plans. Let the premonitions of ape and man stay in the large intestine, where they belong. I remain confident of a bountiful year in the jungle. The barometer of my well-being is set fair, and will remain so unless I am ogled by a vulture laying an egg, which won’t happen.
I expect 2008 to be an eventful year. My dear human cousins will be holding their Olympic Games (heh!) to show the world what wonderful runners and jumpers they are (heh!). And Sassy Miss Kara, the Feisty Filly of the Far-west, will be attending her 10-year high school reunion. Speaking as a gorilla, I don’t quite see the point of these get-togethers. If I haven’t kept in touch with someone for 10 years, there’s normally a good reason for it – a lack of common interests, perhaps, or the failure to establish a friendly rapport. I see no reason to re-acquaint myself with such people, and disapprove of those who do so in a spirit of one-upmanship. We gorillas despise all forms of gloating and never hesitate to ostracise the gloater.
With former high-school classmates there is another complication. Their past association occurred within a mixed-gender group engaged in the rituals of first-time courtship. This is a setting in which rivalries, jealousies and intrigues are surely rife. Can girls who competed for the attention of the same beefcake footballer truly let bygones be bygones and happily swap recipes for savoury pies? And what about high school sweethearts who severed relations because one of them was tempted to philander with a classmate? I can’t see why a cuckold would want to catch up on old times with the person who did the cuckolding.
We gorillas know all about cuckolding, of course. Any alpha male with a harem is going to get cuckolded from time to time, so he may as well learn to live with it. He can’t watch his females 24 hours a day, and there are bound to be occasions when an audacious young ape slips one past him while he’s busy patrolling the estate. Even so, inviting your cuckolder for an amiable rendezvous would be out of the question, even after a hiatus of 10 years. The only possible reason for such an encounter would be for the purpose of ramming a pineapple up the cuckolder’s hairy arse.
I’m not suggesting that these issues have any personal relevance for Miss Kara. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of young lady who goes around cuckolding people, and I can’t imagine anyone daring to cuckold her. Yet it would surely be bad for her soul to hobnob and gossip in an assembly where such discontents are seething beneath the surface. She would be well advised to heed any ominous portents before electing to participate this event. Beware of women with moustaches…and men with warts on their noses.
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