The still of early morning was broken up by the cooing of silver doves drinking from dirty puddles next to the highway. The hairy figure sat still as a corpse, staring unflinchingly at the cityscape. A van approached in the distance, with two figures in the cab. It recognized one of the men, and snorted. The man who was the master of ceremonies leaped out of the van and waved his arms, visibly upset. “We’re worried as hell; how’da doors open?
Its poisonous growl did not impress. “Yeah, I hear ya; musta been a helluva night,” the man said. The black creature stared in disbelief as the two figures spoke and gestured. What had become of the man with ugly eyes? He must have fallen out of the truck, out of sight somewhere along the highway. Who cares, anyway?
“We’ve lost two appearances, and we’ll be late for a third. Let’s get goin’,” said the driver as he slapped the back of the Gorilla’s head. The men had no interest in talking to the man under the mask. They just wanted to make sure that the Giant Jungle Monarch would be able to appear in person to the next scheduled event.
It stood up, scanned the dewy foliage of the adjacent forest, and briefly placed a rubbery hand to its head. A sharp, electric tingling swarmed its face as its swollen eye rubbed painfully against the mask. The pain, however, quickly went away. The shaggy figure then began walking confidently toward the back of the van.
Looking out the barred windows of the van, Gonga observed the line of people patiently waiting to get a glimpse of the beast. The County Fair smelled of damp hay and farm animals. Children swarmed a cotton-candy stand in front of the House of Mirrors.
“Come one, come all,” the man roared into a paper cone. “Who will be the first to greet the Giant from the Jungle?” The truck doors slammed open as if the beast had somehow managed to escape. The dark creature seemed agitated as it leapt from the van and followed the...