the judgement of a gorilla

“You have the judgement of a gorilla!” said Judge Mental.

The gorilla paused to reflect, and wondered what, in the judge’s estimation, was wrong with this.  He scratched his ear, and stroked his eyebrow, and picked his nose. 

“Did gorillas bomb Hiroshima?”  The gorilla rebutted.

“You tore the man in half,” added the judge.

“So that’s why you arrested me?” The gorilla asked.  “Over one man?”

“Yup,” said Judge Mental. 

The gorilla tore the judge in half.

“It’s because you didn’t use a predicate!”  The gorilla snarled.

“The predicate is understood within a quotation,” Judge Mental croaked.

“No one said,” the animal said.  “Sorry.”

The gorilla wiped his finger on the judge’s forehead.

argentine pigeons

The wind picked up. The pigeons gather to a corner of the park. Now grouped, they took off into formation, flying all at once to the right as a sort of practice run. They touched down once more and geared up for the final showcase. They flew upwards, all one hundred and ten and swooped over the children’s area. In one go, the hundred and ten took a shit over the children. For a moment, an eternity; the park was silent. No child ran, no child snivelled or hit or screamed. A moment of pure, unadulterated silence.

Payback for the infants’ terrorizing runs through the pigeon park. Payback for all the interrupted matings, the preenings and the nestings. The pigeons would be terrorized again, but this giant shit would comfort them through generations.