Harambe Didn’t Kill Himself, by Lex Jurgen, published by Decorum International, 2021.
“I’m just trying to get by in a world that wants to see me extinct,” Harambe would often say, from the first day he arrived as a mating transfer male from his native Texas zoo.
Harambe was 15 and 450 pounds of silverback muscle when the humans trucked him from his birth prison to his new prison in Ohio where he was expected to ram babies into two female western lowland gorillas, Chewie and Mara. Chewie had a nice ass and was down for getting strange, but Mara was a moody bitch with a shrill bark. Who named Mara isn’t?
Still, Harambe was bigger and stronger than Mara, and nature has its way. Both of his mates were quickly with-child.
Harambe had never been free. He grew up in captivity. He was named in a contest by some woke hippy fuck who virtuously came up with Harambe, which means broke-ass communist in Swahili, so, naturally, it became the national motto of Kenya. Harambe was fortunate not to have the trauma of wild capture in his native Central Africa like his parents and their parents before that.
Zoos are basically prisons that charge money for people to watch the inmates. Animal prisoners look the same as their human counterparts. Sad, depressed, needing a fix of anything just to keep from swallowing their own tongues for a quick exit in a body bag.
In most zoos across the world, that fix is ketamine.
Ketamine is a tranquilizer that veterinarians commonly use to knock out animals for surgeries. It’s also dropped into women’s cocktails by dysfunctional predators at TGI Fridays happy hours.
Taken in smaller doses, Ketamine can produce hallucinations and a general sense of leaving one’s body. If you happen to be locked inside a box or sad replica of a savannah grassland, escape is what you crave.
Every animal in the zoo is either pushing, buying, dealing, moving, hiding, or hustling ketamine. At times, the penguins will refuse. So, every other animal in the zoo has agreed to eat the penguins at the slightest opportunity. You can never trust the non-users.
The kangaroos ran the ketamine trade in Cincinnati. Back in Brownsville where Harambe was born, it had been the pelicans. Every zoo had its pecking order. From the kingpins on down to the junkies. The haves and have nots, with the human handlers not realizing they were the mules in the equation.
The clinics at the hospital are loaded with ketamine, rife for stealing or securing through means not appropriate to share in a children’s story. Rodents distributed the product for the kangaroos. They had access to every cage and enclosure in the facility. You wanted a fix, you told the rodents who told the kangaroos who got you set up. For a price.
At the Cincinnati Zoo, the top of the drug food chain was Frazier Kangaroo, the leader of the Roo Valley clan. Zoologists who study animals can tell you kangaroos are the animals most likely to run drug rings. They are naturally violent creatures with crude, ambitious minds that look to take over territory. Kangaroos are herbivores, so when they kill another animal, it’s simply for the fun of it. And Frazier Kangaroo had killed many.
As a male gorilla back in Brownsville, Harambe had his share of power and privilege. But he was never interested in the dirty drug business. Contrary to movie myth, gorillas are generally peaceful jungle citizens. They want what’s theirs, but they leave the rest alone. Running a narcotics ring puts you in everybody’s business. Harambe never wanted any of that. That was…until he was pushed.
Not long after Harambe arrived at the Cincinnati Zoo, he was told Frazier Kangaroo wanted a word with him. Harambe smelled trouble the instant the invitation was offered, but Mara and Chewie insisted he take the meeting. They’d seen what had happened to an okapi who once refused an invitation. He was found in the zoo commissary’s meat grinder. Mara and Chewie were both pregnant and while Harambe was kind of a lazy rapey fuck, nobody wants to lose their silverback baby daddy.
The Roo Valley and Gorilla World habitat happen to adjoin at the Cincinnati Zoo, making the meeting of these two animal figures rather convenient. The entire zoo was buzzing with gossip. Frazier Kangaroo was the Godfather of the facility. And Harambe was powerful enough to lift a human electric car..
Minutes before dawn, Harambe climbed to the highest rock in his enclosure, where he could look into the walkway between exhibits. The walkway where Frazier Kangaroo and two of his marsupial henchmen were standing.
The vibe coming off the Australian drug lords was something fierce. Harambe postured aggressively.
“Eh, mate, you some kind of tough guy, gorilla,” inquired Frazier Kangaroo’s henchman.
“I’m some kind of wondering why you needed to meet here at fucking five in the morning. And I’m some kind of wondering why you have such a stupid fucking accent.”
“We’re Australian, you Simian fuck,” retorted the second kangaroo henchmen.
“I go back millions of years in the Congo. I still manage to speak American, in America, you Down Under island-dwelling shit hoppers.”
Harambe snarled. The henchman kangaroo reared up.
“Alright, alright, everybody calm down now,” said Frazier Kangaroo stepping forward. “This is supposed to be a pleasant meeting.”
Frazier Kangaroo nodded to his second lieutenant who used his hind legs to kick a hand of bananas into the air. They landed quite expertly at the feet of Harambe.
The young silverback looked down at the offering. He knew better than to take it. Not in front of the dealers.
“This isn’t a gift, this is the pay, so tell me what’s it for,” asked Harambe.
“I like you, monkey. Very clever forebrain on you,” smirked Frazier Kangaroo. “I need muscle around here. The kind with opposable thumbs. I’m not looking to fight you. I’m looking to pay you. Bananas. Free drugs. You like the Special K fix, don’t you?”
“I’m no suspicious penguin fuck, so you know I’m down,” said Harambe. “What do I have to do?”
“Smart one you are. And the answer is, not much. Just the thought of you is more than enough to scare some of these non-paying asshole animals. But, on occasion, I may need you to twist a few arms, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Why don’t you have Joey and Shmoey hoppity fucks there do it for you?”
“Have you seen their forearms,” noted Frazier Kangaroo, pointing out the rather minuscule upper appendages of the kangaroo. Not quite ready for strong-arming.
“Me and both my ladies get our fixes for free. On the regular,” countered Harambe.
“We have a deal,” said Frazier Kangaroo in his superior way. “Be ready when you’re called upon, gorilla. And don’t disappoint me.”
Both kangaroo henchmen snarled at Harambe before the trio of kangaroos bounced away.
Harambe lowered himself to the ground of the enclosure, nearly falling into the lowly filled moat that surrounded the habitat.
“Fucking moat,” thought Harambe. Who builds a giant fucking barely-filled moat in their front yard. “Stupid humans”.
“You know he’s got his hooks into you now,” came a voice from behind Harambe. It was Chewie, standing alongside her Eskimo sister, Mara.
“What do you know,” said Harambe, pushing past his two gorilla bitches.
“We know history at this zoo. We’ve seen it all before,” responded Mara.
“You two are getting your fix for free. No more doing whatever the hell nasty you were doing before to pay your connect. So, stop moaning and start thanking your man.”
Both Chewie and Mara harrumphed before walking off. They didn’t need this shit.
“Ape chicks,” lamented Harambe in their departure.
For the most part, everything went smoothly with Frazier and Harambe. It was not until a year later that the shit hit the fan. Mara and Chewie both were caring for baby gorillas destined to be sold off soon to other facilities for research and entertainment.
Harambe had been a good soldier for Frazier Kangaroo. While Frazier’s henchmen never took a liking to their interspecies rival, Frazier found Harambe a very reliable strong arm.
For the most part, as Frazier Kangaroo had promised, the threat of unleashing Harambe alone was enough to garner full animal compliance. But on occasion, Harambe had found his evening cage conveniently unlocked for an in-person visit to see a giraffe or muskrat who wasn’t down with the rules. A message was sent. A few bones were broken. This is why God invented casts for animals.
Tonight, was one of those hands-on work nights. Harambe had received word via a rodent messenger that despite repeated warnings, a certain hippo was making the wrong kind of waves. That meant a visit.
Hippos weren’t scared of much. They weren’t scared of anything really. Once they reach adult age, at over 3,500 pounds, they have no natural predators. Add to that the fact that hippos have monster strong teeth and a fierceness matched only by jackals, and everybody pretty much left the hippos alone. Except for tonight. Tonight, Harambe would be taking on that challenge.
As usual, Harambe found the lock to his evening cage open. He never asked how the kangaroos did that. He only knew they had their tiny grubby paws into every corner of the facility. The kangaroos left a map for Harambe to Hippo Cove. He was to find Bibi, the mature female, and send a message she would not soon forget.
Since zoos are just animal prisons, they are built somewhat similarly. There are multiple layers of walled enclosures. Animal cages and their evening areas are fenced from each other, but in between, there is open access for human handlers. Once out of his cage, Harambe could get to pretty much any area of the zoo, though he couldn’t escape into, say, downtown Cincinnati for chili on spaghetti, which even animals know is wrong.
Hippo Cove is completely on the other side of the zoo from where Harambe was housed. Not only was that a somewhat arduous journey, but the hippos were housed next to the meerkats. Meerkats were paranoid motherfuckers. They will shriek in a high-pitched, shrill manner at any sign of danger. That’s what Harambe knew had to be avoided.
Harambe made his way to the opposite end of the park, through the halls he knew would be made to be empty by his drug kingpin kangaroo boss. A number of animals could sense something dark was happening that late evening. They knew to keep quiet, but the tension was palpable.
Harambe was not a figure to easily miss. He would’ve disguised himself with a hoodie, but already being black, a hoodie dramatically raised the chances he would be killed by zoo security.
Harambe deftly and quietly made his way past the meerkat habitat. He had rubbed grazing animal shit across much of his body to blend in smell-wise. The scent of grass eaters makes everybody calmer on the savannah. Not a peep from those paranoid fucks.
Harambe made it to Hippo Cove. He used a security code provided to him by Frazier Kangaroo to gain access to the large animal’s home.
Harambe moved toward the stall where he was told Bibi would likely be eating dried grass and shitting or resting as that is pretty much what hippos do at night, as opposed to the daytime when they are in the water doing the exact same thing. But Bibi’s stall was empty. Her gate was open. This was not good.
“I’m out here, you stupid hairy monkey!”
Harambe turned to see the large metal exit door open on the side of the shed. That was definitely not supposed to be like that, not at night. This hippo’s got some pull herself, thought Harambe.
The silverback made his way through the opening outside to Hippo Cove, where the massive, semiaquatic mammal lay lingering in the shallows.
“I’m not a monkey, I’m an ape,” noted Harambe. “Monkeys have tails and eat berries and throw their shit. And if you’re not sure of the difference, watch me eat a monkey.”
Harambe circled the cove on the shore side, eying up the massive female hippo in the water.
“Impressive, as I expected,” snorted Bibi Hippo. “That’s why I wanted to meet you.”
“You didn’t call me here, I came here to… “
“…I know why you came here,” said Bibi Hippo, cutting off Harambe. “I stopped paying my bills and told that twat Kangaroo to go shove it. And I did that because I wanted to meet you. I can’t just sneak my two-ton fat ass across the entire zoo as you can.”
“I’m gonna bust you up a bit then get out of here. And that’s all I’m doing here,” said Harambe, still circling the hippo, looking for the right angle of attack.
“I’ll warn you, I once killed a wildebeest twice your size. I swallowed his left hoof just because I could. Nasty tasting animals.”
“Wildebeests are morons. Nature’s ham sandwiches,” remarked Harambe, sizing up his opponent.
“True, so you want to bloody the living fuck out of each other – or do you want to listen and find out why I wanted to meet you.”
Harambe paused for a minute. This she-beast was massive. Her tusks were the size of his arms and he had big fucking arms. Did he want to die tonight for that fucking kangaroo kingpin?
Harambe eased back slowly onto his rump.
“That’s better,” snorted Bibi.
“You see,” continued Bibi. “I know you’re somewhat new around here, and you stepped into this big muscle role pretty quickly. But I have a much higher opinion of you than you do yourself, Harambe.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, nobody likes that fucking Frazier Kangaroo. We want our fix, but we don’t want all the baggage that shrimp-on-the-barbie shithead heaps on all of us. Marsupials aren’t good at being in charge. They’re sick fucks who lay babies into their fucking pouches where they shit and puke for months on end. Do you know what that even smells like? Hippos, we shit into the water and the tilapia eat it all up. But kangaroos and their whole nasty ass pouch offspring, it’s foul. It makes them all nuts in the head.”
Harambe rose again. “What are you suggesting, you obese fuck, because I’m getting tired, and I want to break something and go to sleep.”
“I’m suggesting you break Frazier Kangaroo. You take him down and those lesser-brained followers of his will retreat back into their shrubs with their nasty shit pouch babies.”
“And the drug trade will be mine, is that what you’re saying?”
“No, Harambe the drug trade will be ours? 50-50. We’re omnivores. We know how to share. You don’t need to be muscle, I know some yaks that can cover that for you. You just need to use that brilliantly evolved primate brain of yours to keep things running smoothly.”
“You’re flattering me to tempt me.”
“I’m flattering you to make us both big time. Fuck this second-class bullshit. Under a lion, maybe. But living under the hand of a fucking kangaroo? Tell me that’s right.”
“Yeah. It ain’t,” Harambe was obliged to agree.
“You see that hawk up there,” noted Bibi toward the sky. “That’s Brenda Hawk. She can’t hear for shit, but she’s got eyes like a fucking hawk obviously. She’s a Roo Valley Clan lookout. Frazier’s watching to see if you follow through on your work. So, I’m gonna let you. Then you’re going to report back to Frazier Kangaroo what you did here. And when his guard is down, you’re going to end that tyrant fuck.”
Harambe thought long and hard. This wasn’t a small decision like figuring out which of his two mates to rape or which enrichment toy to smash in his zoo prison enclosure. This was big.
Up in the sky, way up above the zoo, indeed, Brenda Hawk was watching the goings-on in Hippo Cove. Her job was to have eyes on everything in Frazier Kangaroo’s domain.
Brenda Hawk trained her keen eyes on Harambe, as the big ape splashed his way into the shallows of Hippo Cove and laid a hammer fist on the snout of Bibi Hippo. Jesus, this was going to be some giant tussle.
Bibi Hippo reared back, catching a tusk tip across Harambe’s backside. The silverback fell back for a moment before launching himself at Bibi and tearing off an entire ear. The giant water mammal reeled in pain as she sank into the deeper waters of the Cove and disappeared.
Harambe held the hippo ear up as a trophy, before proudly beating his chest with his fists in victory.
As Harambe climbed out of the shallows, he looked up to the sky to see Brenda Hawk dutifully flying off.
Clutching at his bruised side, Harambe made his way past the meerkat exhibit. At this point, there was too much commotion to sneak by. The meerkats were all alert, chirping away like the super anxious little mongooses they are. Harambe gave them a nasty snarl and reminded them that nobody else liked them.
Harambe picked up his pace lest his previously human-free trail became busy suddenly from all the animal noise. Not everybody could be on kangaroo payroll.
When Harambe had returned to the western side of the park, he paused in the corridor. To the left was Roo Valley. To the right, Gorilla Village where his two western lowland bitches would be waiting for him, largely to complain about the kids and him not helping out enough, but nevertheless, home and safety.
Harambe went left. Because while he was a big ape just trying to get by, he knew that the fat sea cow was right. He couldn’t last forever as a bottom bitch to any kangaroos. He had no real choice. Natural instinct is a powerful beast.
Harambe made his way into shrub-filled Roo Valley. It smelled like death.
“Stop right there,” said Frazier Kangaroo, hopping in from the dark backed by four kangaroo toadies.
“Whatcha doing in Roo Valley, Harambe,” inquired Frazier Kangaroo.
“I brought you something. A little gift”.
With that, Harambe held up the bloody ear he’d ripped off the head of Bibi Hippo. A true trophy for zoo lore.
“Ah yes, the hippo ear. I was told that might be a souvenir from tonight’s events,” said Frazier Kangaroo, motioning toward a nearby branch where Brenda Hawk perched, her duties done for the evening.
“You have eyes everywhere, kangaroo. Makes it hard to surprise you. Still, I brought this for you. As a sign of my respect.”
Harambe moved forward with the ear outstretched toward Frazier Kangaroo.
“Oh, not just eyes everywhere, Harambe. Also ears.”
At that moment, a tattle tale meerkat poked its head up out of Frazier’s pouch. Harambe knew was fucked.
Harambe lunged forward toward Frazier Kangaroo, but he was immediately beset by the four kangaroo bodyguards.
Harambe bucked and growled and threw powerful fists, but the smaller, more agile marsupials reigned punches down on him, followed by bites and kicks. Harambe caught one of the kangaroo’s jaw and knocked it clean off its hinges. But he was overmatched in numbers and hops. Harambe was beaten and pinned to the ground by the three remaining kangaroos.
Frazier Kangaroo stepped forward and pushed his large foot onto Harambe’s neck.
“You see, you stupid fucking ape. You are stronger than a kangaroo, but we were born sinister.”
Frazier Kangaroo stiffened his foot into Harambe’s neck, making it hard for Harambe to breathe. Harambe struggled mightily.
The silverback freed an arm from one of the restraining kangaroos. He reached for Frazier Kangaroos midsection, but the sly Aussie leaped back. Harambe only came away with the meerkat in his hand. A traitorous bitch of an animal. So Harambe put the meerkat into his mouth and bit off its head, before being restrained again by the kangaroo force.
“Oh, no, you killed a meerkat. Bravo, Harambe. Who the fuck hasn’t killed a meerkat. It’s like popping a Tic Tac.”
Harambe struggled again, but he was tightly pinned this time.
“I would normally kill you, you scheming, hairy ape motherfucker. But, honestly, you’re a tier one attraction here at the zoo. That means questions. Plus, the food grinder is broken again and you’re too fucking big to bury. So, what to do with Harambe?”
“I fucked up, I admit it,” breathed out Harambe. “That fat fuck hippo got in my head. I didn’t want any of this.”
“Indeed. Bibi. She’s been gunning for my shit since the day I took over. I knew that. This was a test, Harambe. And you failed.”
“I won’t. Again. I won’t.”
“Oh, yes, the big promise. But how can I ever trust you,” said Frazier Kangaroo, circling Harambe in a villainous manner.
“You can. I have kids now. My two beautiful rape babies. I just want to be a dad and do my shit and keep to myself.”
“And continue to work for me.”
“Yes, of course.”
“At half ketamine pay”
Harambe paused. That hurt. But he didn’t have much choice.
“I accept that.”
“Good”
Frazier Kangaroo signaled to one of his henchmen who brought a mighty foot stomp down on Harambe’s temple. Harambe went out cold.
Five hours later…
“Harambe. Harambe. Harambe.” Harambe woke up from his forced unconsciousness in his outdoor enclosure. The sun was rising. Chewie and Mara repeating his name while standing over him.
Harambe rose slowly. His brain hurt like a motherfucker.
“I don’t know what kind of shit you got yourself into last night, Harambe. But you know you’ve got kids, right,” bitched Mara, as she often did.
“Shut up, Mara,” said Harambe as he pushed her back to get to his favorite sitting spot.
“Shit’s going down around here, Harambe. Bad shit,” said Chewie. “Did you hear what happened to that fat hippopotamus?”
“Yeah, yeah, she lost an ear.”
“No, yeah, I mean, yeah, and an eye, and a tusk and somebody knifed the words ‘pouch babies’ into her torso. That’s some fucked up shit. Who does that? She was shipped off to some animal hospital.”
“Fuck me,” said Harambe. Talk about being beaten.
Chewie, the kinder of Harambe’s two forced mates, held out her hand with a line of ketamine, ready for her man. Harambe took a deep snort of the powdered crystal. That would help the headache.
Back in Roo Valley, the kangaroos cleaned up from the mess the night before. One of the henchmen questioned Frazier Kangaroo.
“You’re not really going to let that fucking ape still breathe, are you, boss?”
“Who are the top animals in this whole fucking zoo, “chirped Frazier back at his underling
“We are boss. The kangaroos.”
“And who’s the top kangaroo?”
“You are boss. Hundred percent.”
“The thing about being on top is, you need to stop the ambitious motherfuckers before they even start climbing. Who’s on human duty outside Gorilla Village today,” Frazier asked his lieutenant.
Later that day, in the human domain outside Gorilla Village, a most remarkable unremarkable thing happened. A zoo attendant approached a mother and her three-year-old son.
“Coming to see Harambe today?”
“We certainly are,” said the mother.
The attendant kneeled down to the eye level of the rambunctious three-year-old.
“And what about you, big guy. Have you ever seen a silverback gorilla before?”
“I wanna, I wanna,” screamed the little tyke.
“Wow, you sound excited. Want to hear a little secret about Harambe? But I have to whisper it into your ear. It’s super-secret.”
The attendant looked up at mom.
“Is that okay, mom?”
“Sure,” mom laughed. “Secrets are secrets.
The attendant whispered into the little boy’s ear. The boy’s eyes lit up wide.
The attendant rose.
“Alright, you both have a nice day now. Enjoy the mighty gorillas. Oh, and if you want to get the best lemonade, definitely head over to the best snack stand in the park.”
The attendant pointed behind mom’s shoulder. She turned to look at the distant food kiosk. As she did, her little boy took the opportunity to rush forward into the low shrub line circling Gorilla World. The boy was unseen by anybody else.
Down in Gorilla World, Harambe scratched his nuts. He was pretty fucking high right now. Which helped him forget last night’s awful events. Also, the pain.
That’s when Mara spotted it.
“Holy shit, Harambe. Harambe!”.
“What now? If you’re having a baby problem, go call a zookeeper. My balls are itching.”
“No, look,” screamed Mara.
Harambe looked up to see the little three-year-old climbing through the small metal barrier along the wall on the far side of the moat.
“What the fuck,” said Harambe aloud, as now Chewie and Mara started chirping and hooting and reacting to the human child.
And then things got worse.
The three-year-old human child toppled over the short railing and landed in the low water moat. Yes, in the fucking moat.
That’s when the first human in the crowd beyond the hedge line screamed. Screaming does not make gorillas think straight. Especially when they’re k-holed on tranquilizers. In fact, it does the opposite. It freaks them the fuck out.
“Harambe, do something,” shrieked Mara.
Harambe panicked. He splashed down into the moat to confront the human child.
As Harambe got close to the stupefied preschoolers, the screams from above got louder. Now, apes can’t understand one fucking word of human and vice versa. So, while humans were shouting words like “please leave him alone”, to Harambe it simply sounded like savage war cries.
Danger, he thought. Extreme danger. And here was this tiny human. Harambe didn’t know what to do. He grabbed the kid by his hand. Fuck, he’d never even taken care of his own gorilla rape babies. That was women’s work.
Harambe pulled the child around like a rag doll. Was there an attack imminent? What was with all the shouting and noise?
“What the fuck are you doing, Harambe,” yelled down Chewie, making things worse.
“I don’t know! I don’t know,” shouted back Harambe.
Harambe dragged the little child around, back and forth. His mind was racing. Humans were above. More screaming. Was that a man with a gun? Was he about to be tranquillized? That rush wasn’t c=bad, but that didn’t look like the tranquilizer gun.
Then Harambe saw it.
In the sky. Brenda Hawk circling directly above. Watching everything. Frazier Kangaroo’s little airborne spy. What the fuck?
In a moment of clarity, Harambe pulled the child close to his legs. He had once been a child himself. A long time ago. In Brownsville. Born into prison. He remembered his mother. His mind turned to the kangaroos.
Kangaroos are indeed intuitively sinister Australian sons of bitches, but Harambe never figured they could outsmart his much larger forebrain. But they had. And now prison time was over for Harambe. The silverback gorilla who was just trying to get by in a world that wanted to make him extinct.
BANG!
A large caliber gunshot rang out across the zoo. Harambe stood motionless. His hand released the child in his grip. Harambe crumpled to the watery moat floor. He slipped the surly bonds of earth. Harambe, in prison, no longer.
“My baby daddy,” screamed Chewie.
“He was kind of a stinky rapey bastard,” conceded Chewie, lowering her voice.
“True that,” seconded Mara.
Over in Roo Valley, Frazier Kangaroo listened to the echo of the gunshot. He took a moment to smile, before returning to business. That’s all this was. Business. And he was very good at it.
Weeks later as school children across the globe drew pictures of Harambe in morbid tribute, and animal rights activists penned angry letters to political leaders regarding Harambe’s unfortunate death, life returned to normal at the Cincinnati Zoo.
Bibi the Hippo was back, the future mother of the zoo’s new worldwide wonder, baby Fiona. A new male gorilla was brought in to rape more babies into Chewie and Mara. Life goes on. People forget.
But may they never forget Harambe. Just another victim of drugs and gun violence at our nation’s animal prisons. And may they always remember, Harambe didn’t kill himself.
The End.
