Joshua J. Bendai spent most of his life in the single-minded pursuit of money. He had a great deal of success, founding a regional chain of software stores in the late 1980's and building it into a nationwide operation by 2010. By 2015, at the age of sixty-five, Joshua had disposable assets in excess of ten million dollars. He was very rich and he was also very bored, tired of the retail business and ready to retire. After careful consideration of all available options, he decided to chuck his company and spend his declining years in pursuit of eccentric pleasures.
Joshua had dozens and dozens of unanswered questions about biological, scientific and statistical anomalies. He wanted to research these great mysteries, solve the scientific riddles that only a man with unlimited time and unlimited funds could or would care to address.
For example, Joshua always wondered exactly how many molecules could fit on the head of a pin. He took out his fat checkbook and hired a group of researchers to determine how much space was available on a number of common pinhead sizes, how material could be accurately transferred to the pinheads and, finally, how many molecules of a predetermined size could be placed on the heads. Former business associates laughed themselves silly when they heard about Joshua's efforts. Some thought he was mad. Some wondered out loud whether there wasn't some family member somewhere would could watch over old Joshua and his fortune. Most simply waited with undying curiosity to see what else he was going to spend his money on.
Over the next few years, Joshua continued to astound his former associates with his monetary expenditures. He hired biologists to tell him exactly how long common breads could be kept out in the open without growing mold, at various temperature and humidity levels. He set up thousands of audio-video monitoring devices in forests throughout the world to see whether or not falling trees in uninhabited areas really did make a sound. And, in perhaps the most eccentric venture of all, he began his research with the chimpanzees.
Joshua had always heard that if you took an unlimited number of monkeys and set them in front of an unlimited number of typewriters, one monkey would eventually type out the complete works of Shakespeare. Joshua was determined to own that monkey, no matter what the cost.
Spending money the way Joshua did might seem wasteful to some. But, regardless of what a person thought of Joshua's projects, it had to be admitted that they created lots of jobs in the private sector. Joshua was allowing his great fortune to trickle down to hundreds of scientist-types and administrators across the country. He even earmarked some of that fortune for his nephew, Franklin Joseph, assuming F.J. wanted to run the monkey project.
F.J. had held a number of jobs in his twenty-nine years. He'd worked as an orderly in a hospital until he dropped out of medical school. He taught English in a community college for a couple of years before he got bored with that. He'd worked as a clerk in a law office until he quit law school. For the past six months, he'd held a job as a medical equipment salesmen. Unfortunately, his marginal sales skills had recently convinced his employers to give him a pink slip and send him on his way. Joshua, who'd hitherto played the part of the tightfisted skinflint uncle, saw an opportunity to hire an intelligent fellow with a lot of unrealized potential, pay him a fraction of what he was worth, and still look generous for giving a job to the unemployed young man.
Franklin Joseph was bucking under the need for immediate funds, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to work for his lunatic uncle on one of those crazy projects. He needed an excuse to give his conscience and his family, if he didn't take the position.
"Uncle Josh," said the younger man. "I see a big problem with the project right from the start. You want me to work with chimpanzees, right?"
Josh, leaned back in his office easy chair with his feet on his desk and glared at his nephew. "That's right. I want at least a thousand chimps typing away at their typewriters by the end of next month."
"But Unc, you want to see how long it will take for a monkey to type out the complete works of Shakespeare, right?" F.J. asked as he paced back and forth in his uncle's office.
"That's the idea."
"But chimpanzees are apes. They're not monkeys. There's a difference."
"Tish tosh. In scientific lingo, a chimpanzee might be an ape, but in common parlance, a chimpanzee is a monkey. And I want you to use chimpanzees, understand?"
"But Unc, you need an unlimited amount of monkeys. A thousand monkeys isn't nearly an unlimited amount of monkeys. How do you expect me to . . ."
"F.J. listen up. If you want to cheat, you can cheat. I expect it."
"Cheat?"
"Yes. Cheat. Go beyond the spirit of the statistical law, so to speak."
"I don't understand."
Joshua plastered a big smile across his face and winked at the younger man, as if they were partners in a conspiracy. "Let me put it simply. I want to see if I can get a monkey to type out some Shakespeare, and I really don't care how you go about making the monkey type. For example, if you were to take a monkey to productions of Hamlet and King Lear, the monkey might grow to appreciate Shakespeare and be more inclined to type out the man's works. I know that's a farfetched example. It won't be quite that simple." Joshua's eyes narrowed with intention. "This all may sound crazy to you. And maybe it is crazy. But after years of backbreaking work, I've earned the right to be crazy. I want to see a monkey typing Shakespeare. If you can somehow train a monkey to type out even a short sonnet, I'll give you a big, bad bonus you'll never forget."
"Uh--Exactly how big a bonus are we talking about?"
"A bii-iig bonus," said Joshua, "And, as I said earlier, you're going to get a nice, healthy base salary just for coordinating this little experiment. So get to work, F.J. And, make sure you buy typewriters for the monkeys. I don't want them typing on computer keyboards."
"Why not?"
"You could fool me with a computer. You could program it so that even if your monkey is just randomly hitting keys, it would appear that he was typing out one of the Tragedies. That would take all the fun out of the project, don't you see? No. Buy antique typewriters. Fill the room with them!"
Given the monetary incentive, Franklin Joseph decided to take the job offered him by his uncle. A week later, he was managing a huge training complex, supervising over two dozen animal handlers with a thousand chimps. F.J. needed all the animal handlers because the chimps wouldn't even sit down at their little desks and type on their typewriters without considerable prodding.
After another week of preliminary training, everything was running smoothly. The animal handlers would provide the chimps with paper every morning, and every morning the chimps would load
their typewriters and begin to type, like a room full of ugly, hairy secretaries.
At the end of the second week, Joshua arrived with a few official observers, stiff-faced middle-aged suits, to supervise the project. "Let these boys watch how you operate, F.J.," ordered Joshua. So, Franklin Joseph let the observers stand over each monkey's shoulder and watch him/her type.
"Your observers are undoubtedly making the chimps very self-conscious, Unc," he noted after a few days. "How'd you like it if somebody stood over your should and watched YOU working?"
"Nonsense. Monkeys are natural born ham actors. They love all the attention."
"Well, my animal trainers don't like the attention. And your observers have been poking, prodding and watching my trainers as much as they're watching the chimps."
"We're just keeping things clean, my boy. Making sure your trainers aren't monkeying around too much with my monkeys, you might say." The old man chuckled heartily, as if he found himself very amusing. F.J. smiled politely and tried to look professional.
A week later, Joshua brought photographers and video crews to tape the monkeys at work.
"This is a hoot, F.J.," said Joshua.
"What are you talking about now? Why are you recording the monkeys, Unc?"
"For fun--and profits," said Joshua, with a flourish of a wrinkled old finger. "You see, I'm going to release pictures of these monkeys typing and tell the world that I'm trying to find that one monkey who'll type out the complete works of Shakespeare. Everyone will call me crazy. I'll make an absolute fortune on sales of T-shirts and other novelties with pictures of my monkeys on 'em. And finally, you'll show up with the monkey typist and the works of Bill Shakespeare to prove to the world that I am a true, visionary genius. We'll get the monkeys on national TV, on 'Entertainment Tonight', that kind of program. And then the cash will start rolling in. Doesn't that sound like a good plan to you?"
"Well, none of the monkeys really know how to type, Unc."
"Let me see the work of our best pupil."
"Excuse me, Unc?"
"I'll give you another two weeks," Joshua consulted his silver Seiko day-date watch. "I'll be back here on Monday the 31st. At that time, I'll ask to see a page typed by our brightest banana-eater. If there's a line of verse on the page, and my observers confirm that it was typed by one of my ape geniuses, I'll give you a check for $7500. Consider it a bonus." Joshua pulled a brown banana peel out of his pocket. "And watch where the monkeys eat. These peels were scattered all over the reception area."
"We don't need a reception area, Unc. We don't get visitors."
"Now, you don't. But once word gets out, you'll be swamped with reporters waiting to interview our Ape-Einstein."
"Unc. We don't have an Ape-Einstein."
"We will F.J. Just keep these apes working at it," insisted Joshua.
The next morning, F.J. gathered all the trainers and explained their immediate objective. "Each of you must take a monkey and somehow get him to type a line of verse, any verse. I don't care whether it's from Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss," said Franklin Joseph.
"You say you need results in two weeks? That doesn't give us much time," commented Lyla Lerrol, one of the more independent-thinking trainers.
"Yeah, but it's do-able," said Stan Sebastian, one of the more ambitious trainers.
"Well, you all have your instructions. Better get to work," ordered F.J., sounding to himself a little like Joshua.
Soon, the monkey headquarters was buzzing with activity. Every trainer in the place was trying a different method of training the chimps. One young trainer, attempting to get a chimp named Stimp to read his thoughts, was simply sitting in front of the typewriting ape, eye closed, humming a mantra and thinking in verse. Another trainer was taking turns at the typewriter with his ape. The ape would sit for a while, typing gibberish, then the trainer would take his place and call his pupil's attention to the keyboard. He'd type a line of verse while repeating it to the ape. Then, the ape would take his turn again, while the trainer continued to recite his line of verse. "There once was a man from Nantucket . . ."
Sebastian was trying a 'positive reinforcement' technique. He'd point to a key and hold up a cookie. If his ape, a female named Brigit, punched the correct key, she received the cookie. The keys were so tiny in comparison to the ape's fingers however, that half the time this ape punched the wrong key even when she wanted to punch the right key. When Brigit was tired of cookies, she would punch keys at random, totally ignoring Sebastian's commands.
Meanwhile, Joshua's paid observers took silent note of all the various training techniques.
Franklin Joseph was not counting on that seventy-five hundred dollar bonus check. In fact, by the time a week and a half had elapsed, F.J. had pretty much given up all hope of seeing the bonus money. He revaluated his prospects again, on the day before Joshua's visit. At that time, Sebastian showed him a piece of paper with the following verse typed on it:
'Mary had a little lamn,
With fleece as white as snow
And eberywhere that Mary went,
the lamb was sre to go.'
"Not quite perfect, is it Sebastian?" said F.J. as he perused the paper.
"No, it's not ABSOLUTELY perfect, no."
"Monkey type this?" F.J. asked one of the ever-present observers.
"Monkey typed that, yes," replied the stern-faced representative of Joshua.
"Think your chimp can do a better job before Mr. Joshua Bendai's visit tomorrow?" F.J. asked Sebastian.
"Don't think so. Brigit's pooped. Took her two days to type what you see."
"Yes, it took the monkey two days," confirmed the observer.
"Think you can get the monkey to fix this page? Can she put some white-out on the mistakes maybe and type over them?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Joseph. Can't promise that by tomorrow morning. This chimp has never used white-out before. It would take a while to show her how to use it." Suddenly, the image of a horrible white-out disaster filled F.J.'s mind.
"Hmmm. Maybe we should just show Joshua what we have accomplished. Maybe he'll be impressed," said F.J., brandishing the paper and fantasizing about earning at least a portion of that bonus money.
Franklin Joseph went home that afternoon and spent the evening dreaming of expensive stereo equipment and trips to Bermuda. He went to work the next day with a song in his heart and the page of verse in his briefcase. Joshua arrived at ten and was ushered respectfully into conference room one. F.J. joined him a moment later, with Sebastian and Brigit in tow.
With a flourish reminiscent of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, F.J. pulled the retarded version of Mary and her lamb from his briefcase and handed it to Joshua.
"Joshua, look what Mr. Sebastian's brilliant little monkey has accomplished!" Joshua read the paper with a jaundiced eye.
"Not quite perfect, is it?" said Joshua.
"No, it's not ABSOLUTELY perfect, no," replied Franklin Joseph. Brigit screeched loudly at this comment, almost as if she understood what was being said and resented the criticism.
"Monkey type this?" Joshua asked one of his ever-present observers.
"Yes sir. The monkey did type that, yes."
"Well. Shakespeare it's not," commented the crazy old millionaire with a sad shake of his head.
Then, just as F.J. was about to give up all hope of winning his uncle's respect--and his cash, Lyla Lerrol barged into the conference room with a chimp named Bosco. Lyla and Bosco were dressed in matching one-piece red jumpsuits and the monkey was holding his trainer's hand contentedly. Lyla was holding a piece of paper in her other hand, containing perhaps an ape-abreviated version of the works of Shakespeare. F.J. observed what he interpreted as a smug look on the monkey's face. Brigit was obviously a bit intimidated by Bosco. She grabbed onto Sebastian's leg, and dug her teeth into the cloth of his Levis.
"If you really want to see the work of an ape-genius, look at this," said the woman as she arrogantly thrust her paper at Joshua.
Bosco's masterpiece read thusly:
'ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ'
"Monkey did type that, sir," said a second observer who had slipped into the room with Lyla and Bosco.
"Maybe so. But it ain't exactly verse, gal," said Joshua to Ms. Lerrol.
"It's better than verse," replied the trainer. F.J. monetarily thought he was impressed with the woman's nerve and verve. He soon realized that he was more impressed with the long brown hair cascading down her back, the lithe figure and sweet face. In the face of Joshua's initial dismissal of Bosco's work, he wasn't sure whether to berate the woman for not telling him about her chimp or defend her accomplishment in the hopes of ensuring his bonus.
"You should have brought this to me first, Ms. Lerrol," he said. I would have told you that it wasn't what Mr. Bendai wanted to see.
"Mr. Bendai SHOULD be interested in my Bosco's work. You see, unlike Sebastian's ape, my Bosco understands what he's typed. I've taught him the alphabet, right Bosco?" The ape jumped up and down, screeching in agreement. His excitement scared little Brigit, who took the opportunity to urinate on the conference room floor.
F.J. called for his maintenance technicians to mop the floor, then waited silently for Joshua to pronounce judgment on the chimps. For his part, Joshua was just stroking his newly acquired gray beard and staring off into space.
"What do you think?" F.J. asked his employer after waiting for at least 10 minutes for Joshua to say something. Lyla Lerrol and Bosco had retreated to opposite sides of the room from and Stan Sebastian and Brigit, and Bosco was now making derogatory monkey faces at the other chimp. Brigit screeched at the maintenance man who came to mop up her urine and, not to be left out of the fun, Bosco matched her screeches with screeches of his own. Meanwhile, the silent observers were melting into the walls, trying to remove themselves from the scene. It was a menagerie. F.J. was anxious to dismiss trainers and apes and pocket his bonus check, already.
"Well, neither monkey seems a likely candidate for a Pulitzer Prize. In fact, neither monkey has even shown decent secretarial skills," said Joshua.
"But whereas I'm making progress," said Lyla, "Mr. Sebastian has trained his chimp down a dead end."
"Oh come on. Sure, you've taught that ape the alphabet. But do you really think you can teach him to read well enough to type Shakespeare?" asked Sebastian, his beefy face beet-red with frustration.
"Yes, I do!" said Lyla.
"SCREECH!!!" said Bosco.
"Children, children don't fight," admonished Joshua. "Why don't you both continue with your training programs? With any luck, you'll both succeed and I'll have two Shakespeare-typing chimps instead of one." Joshua was maintaining the status quo.
"I propose a type-off," said Lyla, her bright blue eyes flashing with the spirit of competition.
"A type-off?" asked F.J.
"Yes. A contest. Mr. Bendai, give me two months. At the end of that time, I'll have my Bosco type out the Hamlet soliloquy, right before your eyes."
"Impossible," said Sebastian.
"And then, we'll see what his little Brigit can do."
"Anything your ape can do my ape can do better," Sebastian informed Ms. Lerrol. "Don't underestimate Brigit, Mr. Bendai. She may surprise you." Brigit began to jump up and down in a unexpected rush of ape-energy, almost as if she were agreeing with her trainer's assertions.
"Well, this is wonderful. Glad to see you're all getting into the spirit of the thing," said Joshua, smiling so broadly his smile seemed to merge with the age wrinkles on his cheeks. "F.J., I am pleased with the progress you've made on my little project. You and your trainers have performed admirably so far. And I'm curious to see what these two little monkeys can achieve in the next you months. I take it you're curious as well."
"Yes, I am sir," said F.J. in advanced yes-man mode, still wondering about that elusive bonus check.
Joshua addressed that issue after dismissing the menagerie. "Sorry, F.J., you haven't quite earned your bonus, yet. But if things turn out well with our little ape competition, I'll give you an even bigger bonus. Maybe Fifteen Thousand Dollars or so. How's that sound to you?"
"Sounds pretty good, sir," said F.J., making up his mind to micro-manage Lyla and Sebastian in the coming weeks.
"If you're really lucky, I might even give you a percentage of the gross from sales of the 'typing monkey' T-shirts. They'll selling like hotcakes, you know. I mean, people are really going ape over them, if you catch my drift," Joshua said with a wink.
"Ha-ha, Uncle Josh. That was a funny one," said F.J.
Joshua left the training complex that afternoon, happy as a loon. F.J. went to bed that night, dreaming of monkeys taking over the world. Lyla and Sebastian, as usual, spent their evenings with their faithful simian companions.
In the days that followed, F.J. maintained 'business as usual' at the complex, supervising the various chimps and their trainers. At all times, though, he kept a watchful eye on the goings-on of his fabulous foursome, Lyla, Bosco, Sebastian and Brigit.
Sebastian seemed to be having a rough time. He offered candy after snack after treat and pointed to the desired typewriter keys, only to be ignored by a suddenly restless Brigit. Apparently, she was either tired of the typewriter game, or preoccupied with other, more important monkey business. As he watched the florid-faced trainer and his reluctant pupil, F.J. could sense his bonus check slipping further and further from his grasp.
To make matters worse, the lovely Lyla and her pupil seemed to be ignoring the game, altogether. Bosco was spending less and less time at the typewriter, more and more time watching children's cartoons and old episodes of Sesame Street with his trainer. "Uh--Ms. Lerrol, shouldn't Bosco be practicing his typing a little more?" he asked after Lyla and the chimp had disappeared from the typing room altogether for two solid days."
"Trust me, Mr. Joseph," she said, "I know what I'm doing." F.J. had to trust her. He certainly couldn't train Bosco by himself.
And, something strange was going on with that chimp. The animal had become quite vain all of a sudden, going around with an old comb and constantly grooming his hair and looking at himself in a small hand-held mirror. Also, Bosco's posture had straightened. For whatever reason, Lyla had taught him to walk like a man, rather than in the traditional stooped-over pseudo-hunchback monkey manner. Even more inexplicably, Bosco was now eating his meals with a knife and fork, just like a man.
Whatever the reason for this change in behavior, it had quite an effect on Brigit. She seemed entranced with her rival, gluing her brown eyes to his whenever he entered a room and watching carefully to see what strange un-ape-like thing he was going to do next. Whenever Sebastian turned his back, she would hurry to wherever Bosco was hanging out. More than once, Sebastian had to chastise his pupil for fraternizing with the enemy.
As Sebastian's irritation with his competition grew, he began to scrutinize Lyla's training methods. Sebastian was determined to find the chink in her armor. One afternoon, he sneaked into Bosco's locker while the ape was watching movies with his trainer and found some small yellow pills. He stole one of the pills and sent it to a friend in the pharmaceutical community to find out exactly what it was, then revealed his findings to F.J.
"Mr. Joseph, Ms. Lerrol is breaking all the rules," he said.
"Rules? What rules are you talking about, and in what way is she breaking them?" F.J. inquired.
"She's feeding Bosco a memory enhancer. It's a drug called Flarintil and it increases the level of neurotransmitters in the bloodstream. It's been used for treatment of Alzheimer's disease for the past five years."
"I don't understand. Why would Lyla give her chimp that drug?"
"Because it's obviously increasing the monkey's learning capacity."
"And why do you consider it cheating if she IS giving him the drug?"
"Because it gives Bosco an unfair advantage. I don't have access to it, so I can't give it to Brigit."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to speak to Ms. Lerrol," Sebastian replied.
"Fine, I'll speak to her," said F.J. He kept his word.
"You didn't say we couldn't use chemical enhancements on the chimps," Lyla protested when F.J. confronted her the next day. She shook her head in anger, causing her long hair to whip around her face, increasing F.J.'s admiration for her physical attributes and inadvertently making it hard for him to say 'no' to her.
"Well, can you at least share the drug with Sebastian?"
"Why? Why should I?" asked Lyla. "I did the research. I called my personal contacts in the training community and found out about Flarintil. It seems a lot of circus people have been using the drug on their animals over the past year. I decided to give it to Bosco and the effects have been nothing short of sensational. His English vocabulary has increased by one-hundred and fifty percent. Meanwhile, while I've been working, Sebastian has been fighting with his chimp, continuing his old, tired training methods and criticizing my Bosco at every opportunity. Let him find his own sources for the drug. If he wants to win this competition, let him do a little intelligent research, a little honest work of his own."
"Ms. Lerrol--Lyla, please. If you can't supply the drug to Brigit for Sebastian's sake or my sake, do it for Brigit's sake. This project has been moving along peacefully so far, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want Sebastian making waves. I don't want him calling Joshua Bendai to complain."
F.J. didn't fully realize it yet, but Lyla was as enamored with his physical attributes as he was with hers. As a result, SHE found it difficult to say 'no' to HIM. Instead, she suggested that they discuss the matter over dinner. Much to F.J.'s surprise, he and Lyla ended up spending the night together. To Lyla's surprise, she found herself giving Sebastian a supply of Flarintil, the next morning.
Two weeks later, Brigit was behaving as strangely as Bosco. Now she was the one preening and grooming herself all the time. Now, Lyla began to complain about Brigit distracting Bosco.
"Damn it all, F.J. Sebastian's little minx of a monkey has been flirting with my Bosco," she said.
"Have you and Sebastian ever considered working together? You know, as a team?" F.J. asked.
"Hey, I'm a team player. I gave him the Flarintil, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," admitted F.J. "Now, if you could just try to relate to the man on a personal level . . ."
"Can't," she replied. "I just can't stand that Sebastian."
"Well, at least try to get along," requested F.J.
Lyla and Sebastian did begin to try and get along. Lyla tried to get along with Sebastian because F.J. asked her to. Sebastian tried to get along with Lyla because he knew she was sleeping with the boss. Still, the two were like the lead dogs of opposing packs, marking out their territories, each daring the other to cross the line. But although the two chimps could sense the animosity between their trainers, they chose to ignore it. They were the ones who really tried to work as a team, practicing their reading and typing skills together, skills which were increasing exponentially. By two weeks before Joshua's visit, they were regularly helping each other typing lines from a Shakespeare play. The two apes were particularly fond of 'Romeo and Juliet' having screened and enjoyed the popular film version with Lyla.
F.J. had no quarrel with the apes' newfound taste in literature. Especially because Bosco and Brigit, sans trainers, came to him one afternoon with two pages of typed verse. The apes were both in an extreme state of happy agitation as they handed him their sheets of paper, screeching, jumping up and down and poking F.J. with hairy paws. Not wishing to have the creatures go completely ape-shit, F.J. quickly turned his attention to their master-works.
Bosco's page read thusly:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art more fair than she.
And Brigit's page read thusly:
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
F.J. was delighted. In fact, he was again already counting his bonus money. Later that day, he gleefully told fair Lyla what the chimps had done. To his surprise, Lyla was incensed.
"Bosco has betrayed me," she cried.
"Lyla, Bosco is an ape."
"Still, he's betrayed me. I will not have him associating with that horrible little Brigit any longer."
"Don't rock the boat, Lyla," F.J. pleaded. "Wait until after Joshua's visit before you make a fuss." His pleas were to no avail. Sebastian had also gotten wind of the apes' typewritten presentation and, if possible, he was even more hurt by Brigit's betrayal than Lyla was by Bosco's.
The trainers' halfhearted attempts to work as a team were abandoned, and Lyla and Sebastian took pains to keep the two chimps away from each other. Still, the trainers each had their apes spend a couple of hours a day at the typewriter and even had the prodigies spend some time teaching the other, less-enlightened simians how to read.
On the day of Joshua's visit, the tension had seemingly lessened somewhat. Both Lyla and Sebastian had assured F.J. that their apes were ready to delight Mr. Bendai with feats of typing legerdemain. When Joshua arrived, he was shown to a small room, containing only chairs for the two trainers, F.J. and their honored guest, and two desks with two typewriters for Brigit and Bosco.
"I'm really looking forward to this little demonstration, F.J.," said Joshua.
"You're be amazed at what my chimp can do, Mr. Bendai," said Lyla. She was seated next to F.J. as far from Sebastian as possible.
"No. You'll be amazed at what MY chimp can do," said Sebastian.
"You'll be amazed at what BOTH monkeys can do, Uncle Josh," F.J. whispered in the older man's ear. "I'm sure you'll agree that I've earned my bonus this time."
The monkeys were led to their chairs by Joshua's silent observers, as the onlookers held their collective breath, waiting for the typing display to begin. But, as the two began to type, F.J. noticed a certain randomness about the way they struck the keys. He had an ominous feeling that events were not unfolding as expected. And, when Bosco's first sheet was taken from the typewriter by the observer and handed to Joshua, F.J.'s worst fears were confirmed.
Bosco's sheet read thusly:
fwrg etu oiery trytjpo iklw fvsd j,m. sdfg jkl'gsf asdgjk;l.
Brigit's first page was similarly nonsensical. "This is gibberish," said a stern-faced Joshua.
Sebastian, peering at the paper over Joshua's shoulder, was suddenly livid with anger. "What's going on. What kind of tom foolery is this?" he asked.
Once again, F.J. could feel that bonus money slipping out of his grasp. Lyla, meanwhile, had gotten out of her chair and approached the suddenly stupid apes.
"Wait a second," she cried. "This is not Bosco. And that's not Brigit," she said, pointing at the hapless chimps and making them squeal with alarm.
"You're right," said Sebastian, looking closely at the ersatz Brigit.
"You mean they're chimposters?" asked Joshua.
"Yes!" said Lyla and Sebastian, in agreement for once.
"I think all three of you are trying to con an old man," said Joshua. "You couldn't teach your chimps what I needed you to teach them, and now you're making up a story to cover your failures."
"That's not true, Uncle Josh," said F.J. "Believe me, the real Brigit and Bosco can type like chimp-champs."
"Is this true?" Joshua asked the observers.
"Well sir, we have seen these apes produce more coherent verse. As to whether they're chimposters, that we couldn't say with any degree of certainty."
F.J. was about to add more words of protest, when a third observer rushed in with a sheet of paper, freshly ripped from a fax machine.
Here's what it said:
Have run off to get married. Will return only if and when peace reigns again in the complex. When Lyla and Sebastian
agree to shake hands and make up, our services will again be at your disposal. Contact us at the fax number listed above if the above terms are agreeable.
Yours truly,
Brigit and Bosco.
"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," said Joshua.
"Sounds like the chimps have more sense than you two do," said F.J.
Lyla and Sebastian reluctantly shook hands, and drafted a letter to fax to their pupils. When the chimps returned two days later and typed out their verses for Joshua, F.J. received his long awaited bonus money. Several days later, he was assigned to a brand new project by his Uncle Joshua.
"F.J., you are now in charge of public relations for Brigit and Bosco. Get them on talk shows--Oprah, Ricki Lake, the Letterman show ...etc. There's a fortune to be made off these chimps. That fortune could be partly yours, if you do your job properly.
"I'll be the head of this operation?
"Well, I would like you to work closely with Lyla Lerrol and Stan Sebastian."
"No problem," said Franklin Joseph, happy to be able to continue his working/pleasure relationship with Lyla.
"Of course, whatever decisions you make will have to be approved by the new members of my management team."
"And who might they be?"
"Oh, you know them well," said Joshua. "They're a young married couple named Brigit and Bosco."
end