PETA Monthly

Poor things. They're just hairy humans, only smarter.

And wardrobe challenged.

But then, so were Adam and Steve.

Imagine, Kong was going about his day, beating his chest, picking at the occasional irksome louse, and peeling bananas for the tribe. Once every couple of hours, he'd stop by the watercooler--I mean the river bank--for a refreshing drink. Mongo gave him some lip, so he broke his neck and thrashed his inert corpse until 3:00pm, at which point he attended a Powerpoint presentation in the tree canopy. Afterwards, everyone had some split treebark soup and played "toss the Howler monkey." This segued into hours of mundane data entry tasks and oral presentations of advertising ideas, which entailed much grunting and roaring. At sunset, Kong punched his timeclock and went home to the missus. Around 10:00 pm, two members of the jungle patrol arrived on a domestic abuse call. Turned out it was a hoax perpetrated by a disgruntled mountain lion who had a grudge against Kong for disturbing his sleep and vengefully hoped the authorities might whisk his little apelings away.

All this harmony exploded into cacophony, when the ugly, nigh-hairless two-legs burst into the village square with a strange, fire-spitting implement in his hand. Demonstrating the truth of devolution, he gleefully aimed the noisemaker at the villagers and belched death and destruction at them, until Kong and all the other creatures of Gaia's sacred womb lay twitching in crimson pools. Satisfied that his work was complete, he blew away the wafting smoke, surveyed his handiwork, and pried a yellow fruit from Kong's viselike grip. He took his time peeling the banana before popping it into his mouth and strolling into the trees. Nothing made him happier than a job well-done.