Incurious George

George lived in the jungle. Maybe it was the forest. He never asked those types of questions, never bothered with those distinctions. To him, home was home. Whether that meant a tree house in a rotted out  trunk or a palatial penthouse apartment overlooking Miami Beach. At one point, he was transported from his birthplace to a new place by a strange man. The details of this man were inconsequential to George. He didn’t pay attention to what color the man’s hat was or if he was  wearing a hat at all. Hats weren’t his thing. He was a monkey. Or was he a chimp? Again, it was immaterial to the matter at hand. Namely, what was for dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.

George followed the man everywhere. To meetings in alleys with guys wearing trench coats, marking mailboxes with chalk and staying in the shadows. The kind of men who were perfectly content with getting rained on. These were no umbrella men. George went along anyway. He went to big political rallies about subjects he didn’t understand. Still, he clapped when other people did and cried when they did that. That was tougher, since his tears were usually in short supply. 

He never asked the man who the people in the crowds were and what they are so animated about. He didn’t consider it relevant. He minded his business, but there he was, every Tuesday at the same apartment building with the same people. He didn’t wonder what they were planning. Sometimes, if he asked anything, it was where can a “monkey get a decent banana in this city?” Though, to be fair, it was a rhetorical ploy. He knew the fruit stands and the farmers markets. He’d been to a few organic grocery stores and others that were quite filthy. He ate the peel, too.

When the police raided the building and began arresting people, George was surprised. He never paid attention to the pamphlets or the large crates that said had “munitions" crossed out with the word "jewelry" written over it. He probably should’ve been more curious. He never thought to ask the man if he knew any good lawyers. That could've come in handy. Being himself had always worked though. Just not this time.