Gorilla

Having started this blog with flash fiction, it seemed like a plan to carry on with another piece. This one started life as a writing exercise done with Gabe (10), Hatty (13) and Graeme (44). We had to tell each other secrets, and use one as a base for a story. I had Gabe's secret, which was that (shhh) 'Hatty is a gorilla...' 

Gorilla

The suit was hot and itchy, her breath pooling into a swampy puddle behind the plastic nose and mouth. She tried to pull it away from her face, but the hairy paws were too big. A swell of panic rose up in her chest and she tore at the head until it fell off.

‘Hey, get that back on!’ A face appeared around the door, hair stuck in a plastered wave across a forehead speckled with red. ‘You’re on in a minute.’ The wink made her feel a bit better.

Dressing up as a gorilla wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind. The leaflet in the shop window had shown a girl in a short skirt jumping out of a cake, hair moulded into kiss curls on her cheeks, hands positioned above her head to say, look at me! Not like her, not hiding at the back and avoiding notice. Something made her take down the number.

‘You’re a bit small.’ The interview took place in a dirty office, the windows grimy enough to filter out the sun. The woman sat behind a desk cluttered with empty mugs, ash from a cigarette dropping down onto the No Smoking sign. ‘But we’ve had someone drop out. Birthday party this evening. Ted’ll meet you there with the outfit.’

As she took the slip of paper, she wondered what sort of cake she’d be too small for.

Ted’s face came back through the door.

‘Come on, time’s up.’

She caught at the loose fabric of the legs with her claws as she shuffled towards him. Her head was wedged at an angle so she could see through the gap in the mouth. From down the corridor came a swell of voices and a tinny blast of music. This was it. She didn’t think she could do it. She had no choice.

‘Rrrrooooaarrrrrrhhh!’

 

The voices stopped for a split second before rising up again in catcalls of derision. Her mask had slipped again, so she couldn’t tell if it was aimed at her or the birthday target. What was it Ted had whispered as he’d thrust her through the door? Lifting her arms, she jumped from side to side, and then made a run for the loudest voices. Howls of appreciation surrounded her as she grabbed at the nearest body, and she was pushed and turned and passed along in a wild parody of a children’s game.

Until she came out at the end of the line, balancing for a moment in a space of dizzy uncertainty. Where was the music? Ted had said, wait for the music and leave while they’re singing. She felt rather than heard the shift in the group. One voice started, the rest joining in a rising wave.

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh!’

She turned towards the door, then back to the pulsing sound. Where was the music?

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh!’

The darkness pressed in like a blindfold, though the rest of her felt stripped bare. In desperation she took a step, made gorilla movements with her arms. The chanting rose up a level. Encouraged, she leaped and postured, chasing after the sound of feet, of squealed protests and imagined prey. She was the gorilla.

It was the feet that did it. One of them had twisted round, catching her mid-stride: she felt herself falling, grabbed out at nothing and landed. Heavily. Right on top of the birthday cake.

The head came off, and there was Ted. Behind him, a confusion of faces, red and looming; to one side, a woman wailing over the remains of the cake. They all span, rising and falling like an upside-down carousel; if she didn’t get out of the suit soon, she might be sick.

‘Come on, get up.’ She could feel Ted grabbing at a handful of the black fur. He gave a sharp tug, trying not to laugh. ‘Shit, you’re so gonna to get the sack for this.’

The animal force was draining away. A bit of herself was going with it, looking back with contempt at the figure left behind, swamped in cheap nylon fur, smeared with cake, hair plastered with sweat to the sides of her face. She didn’t want it to end like this. One hand moved, sliding a little in the slick of buttercream. Her body heaved itself over, her second hand pressing knuckle-down on the floor, lifting her shoulders in a powerful arch. For a brief moment, she squatted, letting her eyes take in the bare room with its thin festoons of foil-backed streamers, the table crammed with bottles, the edging bodies regarding her with apprehension. And she sprang, a scream of defiance echoing around the ceiling, her fists pounding the muscles of her chest. A moment of silence balanced in the air as the sound of her challenge faded.

‘Ted, get me out of here!’ She couldn’t be sure that she’d spoken it out loud, but there was an answering squawk of feedback from the speakers.

‘Happy birthday to you...’ Ted’s voice was a little off-key, but gaining in volume. A few more voices picked it up, then more, until the ragged chorus set the bunched balloons in movement.

Back in the stuffy room, she and Ted looked at the cake-encrusted costume.

‘I don’t think they need to fire me.’ Her legs were trembling with reaction. ‘I might just disappear.’

A head came in from the corridor, followed by a hand holding an envelope. She and Ted both shrank back.

‘Here y’are, love.’ The hand came towards her, the man still chuckling. ‘We ordered a stripper but, by ‘eck, you livened things up.’ He nodded towards the envelope. ‘Don’t give up the day job now,’ and he was gone.

She had a quick look in the envelope, then back up at Ted.

‘Do you fancy a drink? On me.’ She was a gorilla, she could do anything.

He gave a low whistle and held open the door.

They left the gorilla skin behind, lying in a heap on the floor.