Jungle Love: An Almost True Story

This is the story of your conception:

The costume store had only two gorilla outfits, so I rented them both, glad that we could
get our hands on two costumes so close to Halloween. I suppose I should have asked for a few more details. How was I to know that gorilla costumes come in different sizes and colors? Could I help it that the King Kong outfit happened to be two sizes smaller than Gertrude the Gorgeous Pink Gorilla. Frankly, I always liked your father in Pink, just not furry hot pink. Alright, I admit he looked pretty stupid, but no one would have known it was him, if he’d just kept Gertrude’s gorgeous pink head on, which of course he wouldn’t. At first he insisted that the night was just too warm, which it wasn’t because it was Halloween and we could all see our breath. Eventually, though, he made the best of it, walking around the neighborhood with your brother insisting that he had to remove his head in order not to scare any of the neighbor kids. As if, anyone would be afraid of a pink gorilla.

I got left home to hand out bags and bags of candy in the traditional distribution of labor on our block. I was being a good wife and mother, only this year, I was King Kong. There’s something about being a mean looking black hairy gorilla that is over powering.

Gorillas don’t talk, they grunt. So I grunted. It worked pretty well with the first few kids, so then I tried scratching. Worked pretty well. In between trick or treaters I got a banana and a quick swig of wine. The banana seemed really authentic to me until I realized I couldn’t eat it. So I went back inside, left the banana, and had another swig of wine.

My gorilla instincts were starting to kick in. I got a couple of junior high school kids so I tried pounding my chest and grunting. I almost forgot to give them candy. More often than not, I got little kids and their parents half of whom I’d seen at PTA. When they’d ask if this was our house, hoping to discover the true identity of my Gorilla self, I would jump up and down and grunt. I was King Kong, which unfortunately made more than a few of the littler kids cry. I tried to tone it down for them – a bit, but let’s face it, King Kong is scary.

At least to most. A group of high school football players showed up dressed like cheerleaders. The head cheerleader, a boy with a French flip, a fifties dress and the largest falsies I had ever seen, tried to steal an extra piece of candy. I grunted. I pounded my chest, and then I thought in the most animal part of my brain, “What would King Kong do”. And, I dove from the porch, tackled him and grabbed the candy bar. Then
just before I got up, I shoved leaves into each side of his bra. “Hmmmm. Ughh. Ohh. Grrr.” I said, as I swaggered, scratching my butt back onto the porch.

Several parents grabbed their children’s hands and skipped my house. I went inside, had another big swig from the wine bottle and put on an old disco tape from my college days. I took another swig of wine and turned the music up. Jungle boogie! What would King Kong do? Shake my gorilla bootie. YEAH. I went back to the porch and in between the trick or treaters I tried the Moon Walk. Then I did my John Travolta imitation. But none of it felt right.

I went back inside and grabbed the bottle of wine and returned. What would King Kong do? That’s when I noticed the porch rafters. I jumped up onto the porch rail, bottle in hand and grunted. I shouldn’t have tried swinging from the rafters, or perhaps I shouldn’t have tried pounding my chest since I was carrying the wine bottle. Whatever the case, I looked up and there before me was the most beautiful pink gorilla coming up the street with your brother. What would King Kong do? I missed the rafter I was aiming for, the wine bottle flew from my hand, shattering on the porch and I landed at your father’s feet with a thud.

“UGHHH” I managed. The neighbors came running, but Gertrude the Gorgeous Gorilla turned to them accusingly and said “Who gave King Kong so much candy? You know it makes him crazy. Stand back. He might be dangerous” Your father then put me in a headlock and dragged me inside.

You were born 40 weeks later, but it took about 3 years before we could convince your brother that there were, indeed, no wild gorillas in the neighborhood.