Untitled #14, by Bongo

Tippet frowned as he and Burgess examined the painting. "I don't get it."

"I think it's marvelous," said Burgess.

"It's paint splatters. Not even a shape. It was literally painted by a monkey."

"He's an orangutan, not a monkey." Burgess clucked his tongue. "I think it speaks to something primal in the artistic form."

"And I think you're a gullible idiot. This is nonsense."

Burgess glared. "Or genius. You can't be certain."

In the glass fronted room beside them, the orange-furred ape dipped his long fingers into the pots of color and dabbed at a canvas. He might have been smiling.

Our Closest Relative

The hairy creature squirmed in his hands. "Wait! Wait, please! Don't you recognize me?"

Ekee peered at the baboon, nostrils flaring. The scent was familiar...

"You knew me when we were young. We played together under the fig trees in the fruiting season."

"Ah!" said Ekee. His dark fur settled, shrinking his apparent size. "Yes, I see now."

The baboon wriggled, but Ekee's grip was iron. "Please! Do you hate me so much?"

"No," said Ekee. "I remember you fondly. I bear you no ill will." He patted the baboon on the head. "But I'm hungry."

His jaws clamped down.