The sun hung in a cerulean blue sky. Perfect weather for them to check out the animal enclosures.
“What do you think she’s doing?” Perkins asked, squinting through the glare on the glass.
“I…I have no idea.” Said Winchester, eyes wide.
“No! It can’t be! Guys! I totally know what she’s doing!” Cleveland excitedly clapped at his moment of clarity. “She’s grooming it! She’s looking for fleas and mites and other stuff! She’s after a snack!”
The three friends hooted and hollered at this realization. Their fourth, however, was more taciturn.
“Guys, you, uh, don’t think there are any, you know, alligators around here do you?” Lamar barely whispered the A-word, fearful one might pop out of the air and grab him.
“Enough, Lamar.” Winchester chided. “You saw one alligator on the way over here and you’re still freaking out? Let it go.”
On the other side of the glass, the woman in the middle of vacuuming realized she was being watched. When one of the four rhesus monkeys sitting on her balcony waved at her, she shrieked and ran.
“They watch us all day and we never do that,” said Perkins, annoyed.
The others nodded in agreement.
One hot summer in the late 70s, four rhesus monkeys escaped from the Memphis Zoo. They fled north, taking up residence at the Parkway Apartments, a condo building mostly populated be retirees. Where they stayed, much to the consternation of the residents and the zoo keepers, for several days, getting a taste of what it was like to watch instead of be watched.