Gomer the Stuffed Gorilla Tossing Toy Loves the Stuffed Zoo! Part 2
Continued from Part 1:
“What? You know where the gold is?”
On a distant branch I could see the tiny stuffed gorilla jumping up and down in excitement. “Gold. Me. Follow. OOH OOH!” he said.
I could tell this was going to be a long day.
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I followed the little guy deeper into the jungle as he hopped from branch to branch. He paused every so often to look back and make sure I was keeping up. “What’s your name?” I yelled, while hacking at a particularly obstinate clump of brush.
He appeared perplexed for a good half-minute before answering. “Me Gomer,” he said.
“Of course you are,” I replied, “but what’s your name?”
“Me Gomer.”
“Like the gas station attendant in The Andy Griffith Show?”
I don’t think he was culturally literate enough to understand my humor, so he hopped onto the next limb, “Gold. Come,” he grunted. So I did. Gomer gestured to a clearing about a hundred yards ahead of us. I couldn’t see through the dense foliage to identify what was in the clearing, but I could see the rays of light filtering through gaps in the leaves.
“Alright, Gomer,” I said, “If there’s gold in here, I’m going to buy you your own motorboat.” I hacked and slashed my way forward, and when I could finally see through the trees, I was stunned by what I saw.
Strewn all over the ground were bright golden bananas, and the few trees on the fringe of the clearing stooped low, weighted down by their heavy burden. Naturally, I was upset. “GOMERRRR!!!” I yelled, “There’s no gold here!”
Gomer hopped down from the tree and stared me in the face. “But of course there is, my good man,” he said.
“Come again?”
“You had previously inquired as to whether there was indeed gold in this jungle. Judging by your morose demeanor and the nearly ubiquitous, sometimes oppressive, greenery in the Throwacian Jungle, I ascertained that you may have been suffering under an exceptionally debilitating bout of depression brought on by a lack of variety in the scenery! When I agreed that there was gold here, I meant gold as an adjective rather than a noun, old bean. Take a gander at those sweet golden bananas and tell me you haven’t seen anything more sublime.”
“They look kind of like brownish yellow to me. Anyway… professor, how did you suddenly learn to talk so well?”
Gomer gestured at the stuffocator slung over my back. “I do believe it was that contraption,” he said. “The miniature positron vortex that powers it must have an unintended radial effect which re-routed my simian synapses. I daresay I am a good deal more intelligent than you are now, old chap. So sorry.”
“You have no arms.”
“You’re right,” Gomer noticed, “I do not. How inconvenient. Nevertheless, my supercharged intellect more than compensates for my physical handicap.”
“Well I’ll be stuffocated and slid under a hippo’s belly. Finn’s done it again.” Gomer looked very satisified with himself. He was in the middle of solving a mathematical proof with a twig in the dirt. “How about if I do THIS?” I asked, removing the power source from the Stuffocator, and grinning a little.
All of a sudden Gomer started to drool a little bit. “What happen?” He asked. “Gomer want smart!”
“Come back with us to the Stuffed Zoo, and I promise you that Finn will find a way to make you smart permanently!”
“Okay,” Gomer said.
I put the power source back in the stuffocator, and fired up the old contraption, which purred like a happy kitten. In a flash of light, Gomer and I were back in the Stuffed Zoo. Finn sat in the same old place, at the card table, eating a cup of instant noodles. “Did you find the gold?” he asked.
“No, but I brought you back a new lab assistant!”
“Here, young man, help yourself to one of these delectable specimens of Musa Acuminata, or as you would so prosaically refer to them, bananas.”
Finn was flabbergasted, so I just left him to deal with Gomer while I finished my morning paper and cold cup of coffee in peace.
Buy Gomer the Stuffed Gorilla Tossing Toy Here!
