Moe, the chimp, has escaped. This is the kind of shit that makes the news out here.
Thing is, Moe's not just a chimp. He's a symbol. For hubris, stupidity, the denial that comes from unfailing optimism. Pretty much Los Angeles in a nutshell right there. Yep, like Reagan, L.A. can be defined by a monkey.
His owners, St. James and La Donna Davis, brought him home from Kenya in the Sixties and raised him at their West Covina home. Thirty years later he goes bugfuck, goes on a neighborhood rampage and bites a cop. Unsurprisingly, they were forced to put him into an animal sanctuary. A halfway house for chimp offenders.
Then in 2005, when the Davises went to visit Moe for his birthday, they were attacked by two other chimps that had gotten free of their cages. They tore through St. James' nutsack and chewed his nose off. Yeah, chimpanzees make great pets, don't they?
Nevertheless, the Davises still love them some Moe. It's understandable, really. He might as well be their boy. If their boy had two inch fangs and could tear your arms out of their sockets.
The Davises and Moe have acquired that peculiar sort of celebrity where the weird and tragic intersect. Hell of a thing to be known for. "Yeah, I got my johnson chawed on by a pissed off ape. Mind holding my fake nose for a minute?"
This is why no one takes this town seriously.
There's a 150 pound freaked out monkey with teeth that could puncture a cow's head hiding out in the woods trying to avoid a dragnet. Lancelot Link does The Fugitive.
It's time for all that to be over. Shoot the monkey and let's go home.