So you think you’re a real New Yorker, with your rainbow bagels, avocado toast, and motley crew of catchphrase-spouting ninja turtles of which you call yourself a member, huh? Well, I’ve got some bad news for you, buddy. You ain’t a New Yorker ‘til you’ve abducted an enormous gorilla from an island of prehistoric monstrosities unaffected by time (and I ain’t talkin’ bout Staten Island – zing!), brought it back to the Big Apple, and inadvertently caused its death and major destruction to the city.
My family and I have been kidnapping Kongs from Skull Island for four generations. We’ve all hoped to get rich by charging admission to see them, but each opening night, the creatures break free from their shackles and escape (we keep cheaping out when it comes to the shackles and it always comes back to bite us – literally). But that’s how it is in this city.
We’re New Yorkers. We like our standup comedians to wear leather jackets and tell it like it is. We like our pizza slices to be the size of your head and get weirdly mad if anyone even suggests putting pineapple on them. And we like our most famous skyscraper to be climbed by a 25-foot-tall gorilla that swats biplanes out of the sky (but ultimately succumbs to their barrage of bullets). You don’t like it? We don’t like you!
A lot of people try to tell me that it’s wrong to take giant gorillas out of their natural habitat and bring them to the city since they will meet certain doom and also endanger the lives of New Yorkers. To them I say: Isn’t it wrong to toast a fresh bagel? Every true New Yorker knows you don’t toast a bagel. It’s like taking something fresh and saying, “I wish this tasted stale!” Yet people still do it everyday.
Now that I have addressed that legitimate criticism by deflecting, I will move on.
Audience turnout for the shows has been a bit disappointing in recent years. I’m not pleased with the numbers, but I can sort of see why they’re dwindling. I mean, the smell of these Kongs is pretty foul. Combine that with the fact that there’s a pretty good chance you’ll die if you attend my shows and you’re going to have lots of empty seats (unlike the E train at rush hour – hiyo!).
One time, I made the mistake of having the show take place on the same night Lorde was performing at Madison Square Garden. If you had a choice between paying $90 to see either one of the biggest names in music or some lame-ass monster, no matter how many times I call him “the eighth wonder of the world,” you’re going to spend the money on Lorde, no question about it. (I justify these prices because, again, I can’t stress enough just how badly Kong smells. His odor reaches all the way up to the cheap seats. If you can SMELL Kong, you better be prepared to SHELL out some cash, as I always say.)
Recently, I noticed people have been very into bodega cats, so I’ve started to advertise the shows as featuring a “live gigantic bodega cat” instead of a “live gigantic ape.” The few people I trick into coming with my false advertising get pretty mad, though. But why does everyone think a giant gorilla wreaking havoc on Midtown is any less cute than a cat sleeping on a six-pack of La Croix?
Plus, these shows take a lot of effort to bring together. People think that capturing Kong is the hardest part of my scheme, but that’s not the case at all. Finding a venue that agrees to let me display a monster that can (and almost certainly will) cause extensive structural damage is where I have the most difficulty. I try to make something up and tell the venue I’m going to put on a violin recital, or something boring like that, but they always say, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who keeps capturing giant gorillas and putting them on display in theaters? Not a single one of those shows has ended without violence and destruction. Get lost.”
I’ve considered banning cameras from the shows since the flashes are what always triggers Kong to unleash his chaos, but how else will I get my picture taken next to the Kong? I do this thing where I pose like I’m squaring up to fight with him. I can tell this makes him uncontrollably mad, and no doubt helps to fuel his rampages, but I do it anyway because I think it’s funny and it will blow up on social media.
Giant gorilla shows are as New York as shouting, “Hey, I’m walking here!” Which is used pretty often when walking away from a giant ape that’s crushing everything in its path. And if that doesn’t tickle your fancy, go cross the river to Jersey. We don’t need you.
