Saturday, May 22, 2004

Stolen from the mountains of Africa and trained for spaceflight in The Soviet Union, Yuri Gorilla was just another godless communist animal cosmonaut in a diaper until a freak accident sent him crashing into the fertile fields of Ohio USA, now he makes the starways safe for The American Dream as Astronaut Urine Gorilla!

Bob Socha Presents another thriller of a gorilla story rescued from top secret government files, only in the 21st Century can the truth be told, the moon landing wasn’t faked but it wasn’t one small step for man, it was just all in a day’s work for . .
Astronaut Urine Gorilla in The Return Of The Mullet Maguires!
by Wred Fright

April 12, 1961. Florida.
The gorilla sits in his cage in Hangar S watching television. The show about the dog is his favorite but it isn’t on so the gorilla shuts off the tv, bends the bars of his cage, slips out, ambles down the corridor, grunts at the six chimps he shares quarters with, and climbs into the Mercury space capsule in the next room.
He is ready for bed, all comfy in the narrow but cozy confines of the spacewomb. He settles in and looks out the window, through the skylight, up into the stars. For a mountain gorilla, the only place higher is space.
There is a commotion. The chimps are chattering. The gorilla hears the screeching of human voices.
“Fooking A! It fooking stinks back here! Don’t these whitecoat sumbitches ever wash out the rectal thermometers after they’re done sticking ’em in the apes?” the first voice says.
“It ain’t that. It’s the chimps. They shet everywhere,” the second voice says.
“You’d think that if they could teach these fooking things to run a Mercury capsule, they could teach them how to use the fooking toilet!” the first voice says.
“I’ll show the gorilla tonight while we’re at the bar and tell him to show the chimps,” the second voice says.
The gorilla pokes his head out of the Mercury capsule and looks down the corridor. Two astronauts are looking at his cage.
“Fook! Where’d he go?” the first astronaut says.
“I knew he was a commie spy!” the second astronaut says.
“How can he be a communist? He’s a fooking gorilla!”
“That ape’s smarter than he lets on. Don’t let him fool you.”
The gorilla climbs out of the capsule and drags knuckles up the corridor. Maybe the astronauts bring bananas or Cosmic Cola.
“There he is!”
“Be careful, I don’t care what they say, even if he’s not a pinko, he’s still a wild animal. Look at those arms, he’ll tear you apart.”
“Fooking-A! I’d kick his ass! Anyway, he wants to be my pal, right buddy?”
The first astronaut bends down and sticks out his hand. The gorilla sniffs it.
No bananas.
“Anyway, good for him he busted out of his cage, shet, we were going to sneak him out anyway,” the first astronaut says, “Sumbitch went all the way up into space to test a rocket for us and they don’t even give him a parade. Shet, that Ham chimp at least got his picture in the papers.”
“That’s because the gorilla’s top secret, pudknocker!” the second astronaut says.
“Well, I don’t understand why. Shet, we got Nazis building our rockets, who’s gonna get their pecker enflamed over a Russkie ape,” the first astronaut says, adding in a bad German accent, “Heil Kennedy! I vant to do more tests! Send up the gorilla!”
“Let’s just get him outside before I remember what a dumb idea this is,” the second astronaut says.

A gorilla walks into a bar . . . “And he’s not even drunk yet,” the first astronaut, now wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt, says to the bartender, “Better start him off slow, just give him a shot of rocket fuel and a beer.”
The gorilla follows the astronaut back to the table where five other astronauts sit, also all wearing colorful Hawaiian shirts.
“Where’s Glenn?” one of the astronauts says.
“Probably crying in his pillow, or running a few laps,” another astronaut says.
“It’s not like him to miss a seance though.”
“He disapproved of the location.”
“And our special guest.”
“There he is.”
“He looks like he’s in pain.”
“He’s probably never seen so many blastoffbimbos in one place before.”
“If he got laid, he’d be more fun to be around.”
“If he got drunk, he’d be more fun to be around.”
“Hey, at least he doesn’t smell like piss like our special guest.”
“Spill some beer on him, then he’ll smell like the rest of the place.”
The last astronaut strolls up, wearing a jacket and tie, “Hi fellows! The bartender wants to know if we want one of those newfangled pizzas and I said I’d take it up with you.”
“You’re drinking?” an astronaut says, pointing at a mug in the new arrival’s hand.
“Root beer. Now I propose a vote on pizza as our first order of business.”
The gorilla hoots.
“I’ll take that as affirmative, and roger that to the bartender,” the newcomer says as he heads back to the bar.
“Whew! I thought he was gonna have another shetfit and start preaching again.”
“It’s the news, it’s gotta be the news.”
“I can’t believe that it’s Wednesday, and the first man in space is a goshdarn commie.”
“Hey, we’ll get up there, our boy Urine Gorilla just proved that.”
“Who gives a shit? It’s fooking over. The Russkies beat us.”
“Ah, it’s like a relay race, they just won the first leg.”
“Quite a relay, all the way around the world.”
“Well, technically, it wasn’t an orbit as he landed 200 miles west of where he took off.”
“That’s some fooking small consolation.”
“And he landed on the ground too, we’re going to be floating like a beachball in some fooking water. Nice bunch of rocket scientists we got!”
“That’s because they’re all Nazis. Didn’t the brightboys in the Army think maybe they lost the big one for a reason?”
“Nah, they’re all right. Apple pie and sauerkraut now.”
“Tell that kraut we don’t need any more tests, if the gorilla could do it, I can do it, just stick a candle up my ass and send me up.”
“They’ve been sweating our balls off trying to get things done. At least the gorilla showed the Kennedy administration we can do it.”
“I hope they don’t shut us down now that the Russians beat us.”
“Beat us? Don’t worry about the Russians, we’ll kick their ass, still.”
“Fookin’ A, we will! Yuri Gagarin can kiss my red, white, and blue ass!”
“Yuri?” the gorilla says.
“Did that ape just say something?’
“Never mind, check out Johnboy, he’s having to fight off some blastoffbimbos.”
“Those aren’t Star Whores; those are those commie motorcyclists again!”
“Dudes, they’re not communists; they’re just like beatnik bikers!”
“Shet, I don’t care what they are; I’m going to kick their ass!”
The last astronaut says, “I’ll take that up with the other fellows,” and wanders over with a pizza.
Upon reaching the table, he says, “Say, those fellows over there seem to be a bit unpatriotic and challenged us to a race. Since we lost the one in space, they said. Normally I don’t approve of drag racing but I think those fellows need knocked down a peg or two.”

Outside, on the beach, a biker with long hair and a leather jacket with a shamrock on it revs the engine on his bike. Next to him, an astronaut sits in his Triumph with the gorilla riding shotgun. A girl in a bikini waves a flag while a group of German scientists clink glasses and sing Bavarian drinking songs.
“Get a haircut, pinko! Real men wear crewcuts! You look like a girl. An ugly girl!” the astronaut says to the biker.
“We told you that we’d return and we have, you spam in a cans will rue the day that you interfered with the Mullet Maguires!” the biker sneers back.
“You miserable pudknocker!”
“Yeah, when some boys in Akron wanted a raise they made you visit the factory and talk a lot of nonsense about how important the space race was to our country, you guys are nothing but lapdogs for the military-industrial complex. We got problems down here we need the money for like improving your horrible fashion sense! That shirt you’re wearing makes my eyes hurt!”
“I’m going to kick your ass, fooking yeah!”
“If you guys are so tough, why’d you send the monkey up first?”
“Your little bike’s going to go kaputnik when you face off against my wheels. Can’t take my Triumph baby!”
The flag drops and so does the top of the flagdropper’s bikini. Engines roar down the beach, sand flies, crocodiles run for cover as the race is on.
The gorilla sticks his head out the window and hoots. He climbs onto the roof and surfs. The crowd goes wild and a rock band starts playing surf music through electrical amplification. Oh no, a hapless drunk rocket scientist has wandered in the path of the race! The gorilla hops onto the bike’s handlebars and with his amazing agility and strength snatches up the scientist before he wipesout daddy-o!
“Vat ist dis?!” the scientist shouts as the gorilla tosses him safely into the ocean.
Sobered by the near disaster, tempers and engines cool and the race is forgotten.
A beach party breaks out as rocket scientists, Mullet Maguires, blastoffbimbos, astronauts, and even the bartender play the bongos and have a cookout. The gorilla wonders why it couldn’t have been this way from the start. What’s wrong with these humans? Why the needless conflict?

After his fifth pizza, the gorilla goes for a walk with the buxom flagdropper.
“Four down, three to go!” her friend says.
“Do you think she’ll make it with an ape?” another blastoffbimbo wonders.
“King Kong, baby! He had a thing for blondes too!” an astronaut says and they dance to the rock and roll band under the moon tonight.
The flagdropper holds the gorilla by the arm when it’s quiet and they stroll along the beach in the moonlight. “I like you, you’re quiet,” she says, “Some of those other astronauts are real full of themselves and never stop talking about how great they are.”
The gorilla grunts and looks up at the stars. He remembers Yuri and is happy he made it up there and back. Why are the astronauts mad at Yuri? They don’t even know him. He’s a nice guy. He used to give him bananas. “Space is infinite, isn’t there enough for everyone?” the gorilla says aloud.
“Oh my Gawd, you just talked. I can’t believe it. You’re a guy in a gorilla costume, aren’t you?” the flagdropper says, “That’s the gonest. You had us all fooled.”
The gorilla pisses in the ocean after hot monkey love. Maybe these humans weren’t so bad after all.

Lakewood, Ohio USA 20 December 2002

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