February 3rd: Gorillas Are a Type of Feeling.

He took the piss a little threw some recordings on using the speaker. He convinced himself that he no longer cared and that it might even be true. 
In order to secure his conviction he decided to go swimming with very little time on the clock. He walked towards the hill, feeling a little proud that he had managed to motivate himself. Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles joined him, helping to release a horde or endorphins which actually had him feeling good. 
'’well that’s a fine how do you... Look at you moving on so quickly’'
He looked up from the bar. There was the monkey. 
'’that’s better... You know the big guy’s been pretty restless today. '"
He listened and heard what sounded like a large ape stomping around, probably because it was. 
' ' and that means your having some awfully romantic thoughts. '' 
More staring at the bar. 
'’let’s see them then '' 
'’I’d rather not Frank.. '' 
The monkey didn’t seem to care smacking the side of his head. Watching a splash of memories onto the bar mirror. 
He hated mirrors, 
'’I thought I got rid of that"
"that’s not how this works’'
They turned their attention to the mirror. Thoughts swirled around. Flashes of emotional out pours and deep moments coupled with otis redding songs. Changing to mornings in Madrid, him in control of his life and her liking that. Her eyes, more white Knight actions, him finally being the one to give her emotional freedom. 
Spit hit the mirror. 
'’what is this? I thought we agreed that it was a no. There’s no hope for this one. '' 
A giant fist thumped down on the bar with the distinct noise of a small rabbit being flattened. 
The monkey shut up. The gorilla drummed the bar, he was watching the screen. He had been denied and imprisoned for a very long time and recently had come close, he was not going to take this lightly. 
It was noted by him that the gorilla was bleeding profusely. The monkey looked at the pooling blood on his bar with dismay. 
'’at least put a coaster down. '' 
The gorilla grunted turning his head to the mirror, but too late he was at the pool. 
The bar drowned in chlorine. He could let his memories as he proceeded to compare his body to each and every other body there, usually to his own loss. He managed 90 lengths, he felt the monkey scratching and watching his effort. 
His mind filled with more rescue fantasies, aided and abetted by the gorilla. 
By the time he had grabbed his gear and headed to work he had enough. 
As the tram dragged it’s slow, drawling screech he found himself back at the bar with a large Baseball bat in hand. 
He looked at the gorilla and the gorilla looked at him. Ennio Morricone snapped into existence. 
It was time. 
He’d be fine he’d done this before, and the gorilla was already hurting. 
He rushed in swinging the bat. 
When all was said and done, blood and glass a new bold decor choice, the beast was back in its cage. 
Frank was bouncing up and down. 
'’I knew you had it in you. Toughest guy I know. "
'’shut up. '' 
" we make a good team, and now all that hope is done for the day. '' 
"Shut... Up. '' 
The monkey didn’t or couldn’t. 
'’... I mean it’s not like you could manage, you’re a fuckin' mess, any girl that gets you is going to be miser... '' 
He threw the now splintered bat, spearing frank to the bar. 
'’ow’’, the monkey went back to smoking his cigar. '' so angry, a plume of smoke followed the statement. 
He grabbed to bottles from behind the bar. Laphroaig, it should at least be difficult. He went to the back of his mind. He threw a bottle into the cage, then slumped against its bars. 
'’I think frank might be right. '' 
It was surprising to get an answer. 
'’He usually isn’t"
Lay down Sally drifted towards the cage. 
Such a well spoken gorilla, but then the romantics often were. 
'’with one key difference... '' 
'’Sally actually likes him. '' 
The bars rattled, he drank. He knew self pity and delusion wouldn’t help but it seemed to be his default. 
He was only halfway through his shift and filled with panic and fear.

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