Read Gorilla Suit.
I’d like to make the Gorilla Suit script into something. A short graphic novel perhaps.
I wrote it after drawing the image above, using the illustration as inspiration to write something quick. I’d been geared to create a humorous short story piece, but I much preferred the narrative I came up with; the dark undertones that could be explored in the spaces left. It needs a bit a work. Perhaps more movement, though I kinda like the stillness. I may also expand on the end. I’d like a little more to be revealed… But maybe it’s best to leave it as is. I’ll have to see.
What do you think?
Two men sit at a flimsy outdoor table with two beer bottles on it, and a half-filled ashtray in the corner, in a field that seems to be home to a circus out of hours. One, TYLER MOSES, in a tired suit and a wearier, though neutral, expression smokes a cigarette. The other, ROMEO RODRIGUEZ, younger in years and poorer in dress- with an agitated scratch across his neck, plaster on nose and slightly bruised eye, catches sweat from his beer bottle. Tattooed on his fingers are the words LOVE KILLS.
He was wearing a gorilla suit because his hands were shy.
Romeo takes a swig. Tyler watches him for a moment, a barely noticeable twitch in his features.
Hands were shy?
Yes. That’s what I heard.
Romeo’s hands leave the bottle and he wipes them on his shirt.
His hands were shy.
Tyler takes a drag of his cigarette. Exhales.
And so, everyday—everyday, he trampled a circuit around
her stage as she danced, and she practiced, and she stole
his heart away.
Tyler smokes again. Glances at his cigarette.
And he couldn’t tell a soul—
Embarrassing, you know?
Tyler stubs out the cigarette half way and interlocks his fingers on the table. Romeo sits back a little/shuffles.
I don’t know that I do.
(looking around his person for cigarettes. Finds)
Just– Ah, also, he hardly talked at all. Though Jack Wilkin
saw him mumbling to the Windsor tree last December,
something about birds, and peace. He believed in the
good book. Good guy. But, honest to Lord I’ll tell you,
that man’s words were rare. Light?
So, he fell in love with her.
Tyler fishes in his pocket. Helps Romeo light up his cigarette. Romeo takes a deep drag. Releases.
Desperately. But she was the Master’s daughter, the
daughter of the Jungle cat. He (Frankie) could’ve been
a flea. That kid was one of the rare ones. Felt love right
through his body. With his soul.
Mm. Right. But why the suit?
Romeo takes a swig of his beer bottle and makes a face of distaste.
Give it a stab.
I’ll bet it’s how he felt, you know? Good kid. Confused.
Guess he wanted to bring her down to his level. Make it
Romeo stares at the end of his cigarette, burning brightly and accumulating ash.
She was real upper class, you know, Sir. Gorilla suit
don’t belong there.
Why’d he go then?
Romeo squints at Tyler.
Tyler sits up in his seat and leans forward, gaze firm and unmoving.
Why’d he stretch above his reach? The class above.
As if I gotta say—! He had to. Love—you don’t control
love, now, do you? Just arrests you, hand-cuffs and all,
no time to clue up on the ride you’re going on. It ain’t
cheesy when you’ve felt it.
Oh, and you’ve felt love, now, have you?
Yes. I have.
Tyler smiles, slow and knowing, though the lift does not reach his eyes. He finally picks up his beer and drinks. Romeo’s body suddenly tenses. The relaxed air around him shatters.
Haven’t all of us?