Christmas, 2000 / No. 4
Art by Ian Phillips
Ian Phillips

We were talking about monkeys and monkey cinema. Planet of the Apes, of course—that goes without saying. All the parts: Beneath, Battle for, Escape From, they were all good. Monkey Business, someone said, and someone said that was the Marx Brothers, and someone else said yeah, but there was also one with Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe. And Ed, how about Ed, that monkey baseball player—he sure could pitch—and all those Clint Eastwood orangutans. They were big and orange. We wondered about why there were no proboscis monkey films—those’d for sure be solid hits if the monkey was paired up with, for example, Harvey Keitel, or maybe Reese Witherspoon. A scientist proboscis monkey would work, or even a surfer proboscis monkey. Or a proboscis monkey in a classroom that everyone thought was just a new student and it aced all the tests. Someone mentioned Gorillas in the Mist and we wondered if that was a monkey movie because, in fact, none of the monkeys wore clothes in that one. You have to wear clothes to be a monkey movie. Otherwise, what’s the point? Then someone said something about bananas and it reminded us about food, and the guy whose house we were at offered us grilled cheese sandwiches, and someone said how when they were a kid they thought it was “girl cheese sandwiches,” and then we were off talking about sandwiches. In those days, we thought we’d live forever. Nothing could stop us.