Affe #216

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Pip Papionini hadn't planned any of this. In retrospect, he wondered when it had escalated, but that wouldn't change anything now. As he pondered the consequences of his actions, a horde of screeching, hungry Barbary macaque apelings were charging around him, playing hide and seek or looking for a snack to make this boring trip more entertaining.

Pip wasn't a teacher, that was far from his calling – he was a musician of some repute and had studied at the famous Surilliard School of Performing Arts. Besides him, only nine other monkeys out of 1,000 primates successfully applied and managed to survive the gruesome selection process. The ten hours of humming 17th-century chamber music was one of the hurdles that crushed most – something Pip quite enjoyed, though. Being one of the few primates with opposable thumbs had led him to the realization that he should choose a class of instrument where this would give him an advantage. Therefore, Pip specialized in wind instruments during his time at Surilliard and learnt to master the flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and the bassoon. Together with three fellow students he formed the band "The Baboons with Bassoons", a jazz quartet that enabled him to finance his studies while performing at the hippest clubs in the Monkeyverse at the same time.

He had been in the right place at the right time. Known as the Jazz Golden Age of the Monkeyverse, it ushered in new ideas of liberation, consumption, and a culture of excess. Too much alcohol and not enough self-control marked the beginning of a turbulent decade and with it the beginning of Pip's glorious career. He didn't care if he was performing in a high-end club or in the basement of a shady apartment block – as long as the pay was decent, and the vibe was good. However, his favorite spot was "Howling Harry's Bar", a legendary establishment and the place where one night Pip discovered a hidden talent that would indirectly contribute to his current predicament.

After a performance, he quickly left the stage with his instrument. Since the air in the club was very stuffy, he decided to take the back door into a side alley to get some fresh air. In the quiet, away from the monkey crowds and their noise, he felt inspired to pull out his instrument and play a few tunes that just popped into his head. When he had finished his little performance, he looked up and realized that an unexpected audience had gathered around him: In front of him were about a dozen raccoons. They looked up at him in awe and followed his every gesture. Apparently, he had lured them out of the nearby dumpsters with his tunes. Pip was completely intrigued. He wondered if the little guys would follow him if he kept playing. He tried and they actually did. He lured them to the nearest park and afterwards the owner of "Howling Harry's Bar", who had watched everything from a window, thanked him several times that he was finally free from the marauding pack of raccoons that had been besieging his establishment for weeks. He paid Pip generously for performing on and off the stage that night. This gave Pip a new idea for a day-time side business – pest control.

This was the story so far. But it didn't explain how Pip, CEO of a successful rodent removal service by day and famous jazz musician by night, ended up on this mountain with a horde of hungry macaques. His last job was to blame for this, and perhaps a bit of Pip's short temper too. To his displeasure, his last client, the headmaster of a local school for young apelings, had underestimated the costs and refused to pay Pip, for luring away a passel of possums. Pip was furious to be treated like that – after all he was an artist and a master of his trade. Out of revenge, he took matters into his own hands. He played his most enticing tunes to the school's apelings and – to his surprise – they happily came with him. Even Pip was amazed, since he had never tried his second talent seriously on primates, but the apelings even sang to the sounds of the bassoon as they followed him. His original idea had been to take them to the town square, stir up some trouble, and complain publicly about the wages he was being denied. But somewhere along the way he got lost – it was difficult enough playing the bassoon and making sure the apelings got across the streets safely or didn't fall into the sewers.

In order to orientate himself and find out where he ended up, he decided to climb a small hill. It turned out the hill was rather a mountain, and climbing it was more strenuous than expected, while playing the bassoon, and guarding the horde of monkeys all the way to the top. After all, he couldn't leave the youngsters alone. However, when he got to the top he was so out of breath and had to stop his playing. But as soon as the bassoon fell silent, the apelings regained their senses. They were a bit surprised as they were no longer in school, but the view was good and the area was new and exciting. They were also hungry, impatient and in dire need of a toilet break.

Pip shook his head in desperation as he tried to collect the apelings, this was not how he had imagined his revenge. Although what he had now managed to do was to bring a horde of wild macaques up the Rock of Gibraltar.

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