Part 2

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed!

The metallic sound didn’t come from Marcus.

It came from the high access hatch near the ceiling of the night shelter.

A small, wooden trapdoor—one that hadn’t been opened in months—slowly swung downward on rusty hinges.

Barnaby didn’t break his pout, but his deep-set eyes shifted upward by a fraction of a millimeter.

Down through the hatch slid a tiny, furry bundle of chaos.

It was Barnaby’s six-month-old foster nephew, Pip. 🐒

Pip was a pint-sized baby chimpanzee who had been temporarily transferred for nursery care, and who possessed zero respect for silverback authority.

Pip landed squarely on his back in a pile of clean straw, giggled silently, and immediately spotted Barnaby.

The entire crowd of tourists held their collective breath.

Marcus froze, his walkie-talkie slipping from his fingers and thumping onto the soft grass.

“Oh no,” Marcus whispered under his breath. “Not during the protest.”

Barnaby’s expression did not change.

His lips remained firmly pressed into that world-class, disgruntled frown.

His head stayed resting against the rough concrete wall.

He looked like an ancient granite carving of dissatisfaction.

Pip, however, saw his uncle not as an intimidating apex primate, but as a giant, soft, warm climbing mountain.

The little chimp scrambled across the floor on all fours, making tiny squeaking sounds of pure excitement.

He ran straight past the frozen block of celery ice.

He paid no attention to the crowd behind the glass.

He had one goal, and one goal only: complete and total disruption of Barnaby’s moody vibe.

Pip launched himself through the air, landing with a soft pffft directly on Barnaby’s broad chest.

The sheer audacity of it!

Barnaby didn’t flinch, but his left eyebrow hitched upward by a hair.

Pip grabbed two handfuls of thick, black fur on Barnaby’s shoulder and pulled himself up.

He climbed right up to the giant silverback’s face.

The contrast was hilarious.

On one side, a tiny, hyperactive, wide-eyed baby chimp overflowing with joy.

On the other side, Barnaby: four hundred pounds of absolute, unyielding, stoic grumpiness.

Pip reached out a small, leathery hand and poked Barnaby right on his velvety nose.

Poke.

Barnaby’s nostrils flared.

The crowd gasped in unison.

A collective nervous laughter rippled through the onlookers.

“Is he going to get mad?” a woman in the front row asked, clutching her phone tightly.

Marcus took a step forward, ready to intervene if the big guy lost his patience.

Pip wasn’t done.