The members of the board at the Los Angeles Zoo sat about their wide table and once again got into the same debate they always did. Was it really the best course of action for every animal in the zoo to be a chimp?
Of course it had started out as a brilliant cost cutting maneuver. The chimps that had been taught to operate the elephant suit were efficient, much easier to feed than the elephant, and seemed to genuinely enjoy their job. It took eight chimps to operate the complex elephant outfit, stomping around the elephant enclosure, hooting and making elephant noises, and the public was none the wiser. Soon it was a simple process to slowly begin converting all the large mammals to chimp operated exhibitions. The giraffes were a task, but the chimps took well to the tutorship of balancing on one anothers' shoulders within the neck of the costume and operating the mouth and eyes.
The board of directors looked around at one another and finally the inevitable question was raised.
"What else can we put the chimps to work as?" The deputy director asked his fellows. The large mammals had been only the beginning of course.
Each chimp enjoyed his or her work, being paid a double ration of bananas, and taking advantage of the chance to better themselves. The chimps in the gazelle costumes had learned to run fast. The chimps in the lion costumes were adept at replicating the subtle menace of the big cats flawlessly. The alligators were specially trained chimps in wetsuits and breathing equipment.
Trouble had arisen when the smaller creatures came up for review, and it was decided that if possible they should be replaced by more chimps.
"But what of the size concerns?" Came the troubled query from a board member. "No chimp can possibly operate a five inch wide stony toad costume effectively!"
There had been much stroking of chins and comparing of possible answers over that one. The final solution had simply been to construct larger sized costumes and place the exhibits behind craftily distorted glass to distort the apparent size of the creatures to the viewing public. Once more, they were none the wiser. Even most of the chimps were now chimps in other chimp costumes. Chimps that desired to explore their sexuality or their roles in society by changing appearance within the boundaries of their own species.
Four hundred chimps now worked and operated within the confines of the LA Zoo. There were virtually no other animals left.
A janitor had entered the board room and began his sweeping of the floors surrounding the table. The deputy director watched as the man swept calmly, arranging the dust and debris from a week of debate into neat piles. Something about the way the man's skin held to his joints was odd though, as if he were not a man at all.
The deputy director narrowed his eyes and watched the other members of the board.
"Surely not," he said, his voice tinged with concern.
The other members of the board looked back at him with an almost curious expression.
"But of course." Came the voice of the Zoo Director. He smoked a cigar and rapped his fingers on the table. "Why, a regular man would want his hourlies and his salaries, his time off and his lunch breaks. These fine chimps only want their bananas and the chance to better themselves. Why, what greater challenge to the charming animals than to learn the subtle nuances of the human being?"
The janitor gave a curt nod to the assembled board of directors, and left, sweeping his neat piles out with him. The door closed behind him.
The deputy director watched as the chairman of the science committee pulled a banana from her pocket and began to eat it in silence.
"Then, fellow members of the board, I ask you: Are there any among you who are not chimps in the skins of my dead fellow board members?" The deputy director looked warily about as the other board members exchanged glances, nods, shrugs.
The Zoo director crushed out his cigar on the table before him and dusted his hands, the skin fitting just a little tight over his long simian fingers. The deputy director noticed only now, the Zoo director's accent was not the perfect Brooklyn twang anymore, but a practiced actor's estimation thereof.
"Then, It seems there is only one job left for the chimps to be put to," he said.
The deputy director tried to rise from his seat, but the chimps were already upon him.
