At the stroke of midnight, I was awakened by a vicious pounding on my door. You see, my apartment is right above my office. So, I hear this pounding, and I walk down to see who it is.

"C'mon! Open up!" the impatient human yelled.

"I'm coming!" I yelled back, pulling on my robe as I walked to the door.

Looking at the silouette made by the security lights in the hall, I was led to believe that my visitor was very large.

Walking over to the door, I flipped on the light switch. The idiot outside kept pounding. Part of me wanted him to break the glass, just so I had a good reason to raise his payment.

I unlocked the door and opened it. Standing in front of it was a big man - my guess had been right - wearing a black trenchcoat, and a black hat. His face was covered by the shadow of his hat.

"Bobo T. Chimpanzee?" he asked.

"At your service," I said.

The man looked down. If I could see his face, it probably would have looked confused. "But - but you're a chimp!"

"What was your first clue? My appearance, or the writing on my door?" I asked, pointing to the lettering. "'Bobo T. Chimpanzee, Private Investigator'. That means I'm a chimpanzee who will solve mysteries."

"Couldn't you have just become a superhero called 'Detective Chimp'?"

I sighed. This was going nowhere. I decided to get this over with quickly, so I could get back to bed.

"Was there a reason you came over, or do you like waking monkeys up at midnight?"

"May I come in?"

I stepped aside. "Only if you have a mystery for me to solve."

The man walked in and sat down in the chair in front of my desk. I closed the door, walked to my desk, and sat down in my chair, propping my feet up.

"So, Mr. Man-In-Black, why do you come to me at midnight?"

"I have a mystery for you to solve."

I sighed. I don't think I've worked with any client as dumb as this one. This just proves how superior monkeys are to humans. No monkey, ape, gorilla, or chimpanzee would ever beat around the bush like this guy. "Yes, we established that at the door. Now, would you care to tell me what this mystery is, or will I have to escort you out, so I can get back to bed?"

The man handed me a card. "This man is starting a campaign."

"What kind of campaign?"

"A presidential campaign. His platform is that he wants to give guns to monkeys."

"Guns to monkeys?" I asked, startled. I loathe guns, they make loud noises. Of course, after seeing what humans do with guns, maybe monkeys can control them a lot better. I decide that I need to check this guy out. "Okay, can you give me anymore information?"

The man stared at me. He shook his head. "No. But, I want to know anything you can find out."

"And how much are you willing to pay?"

The man pulled a wad of cash out of his inside coat pocket and tossed it on the desk. I picked it up and carefully flipped through it.

"One grand," he said. "With one more after you get me information."

"Two thousand bucks to find out stuff about this guy? How deep do you want me to go?"

"Find out why he wants to give guns to monkeys. What is his story? How come no one has heard of him before now?"

I thought about it. This sounded like a very good case. "How long?"

"Excuse me?"

"How long do I have to dig into his background?"

"Two days."

The man stood and walked to the door. "Sleep well," he said as he walked out.

I turned the lights out and walked back upstairs to bed. I hadn't even looked at the card. Oh well. It could wait until the morning.

So, the first thing I did that morning, after getting out of bed, and doing the other morning necessities, was to go down to my desk, and look at the card.

The name was unfamiliar - Barry Slow.

The good news was that there was a number on the card. I decided to call after breakfast.

Breakfast consisted of Banana Flakes, with a glass of coconut/banana juice. It was imported from my home, Gorilla City. Of course, no human knows that it came from Gorilla City, thanks to the wonderful set-up of international commerce.

While eating breakfast, I read the paper. I paid extra attention to the political events that morning. Boy, was there a lot of material on politics. Understandable, though, since the election was only a couple of months off.

One story really stood out. It was about a rally of Barry Slow that had just taken place. Looked like a big turnout. 'Hmmm,' I thought. 'Good excuse to call.'

So, I cleaned up the kitchen and walked back to my office. Grabbing the card, I picked up my phone and dialed the number. A woman's voice answered.

"Hello!" she exclaimed. "Barry Slow's campaign office! How may I help you?"

Immediately I could visualize her. She was obviously one of those clueless twenty somethings that only got the job because picking up a phone and talking into it was something she could do already. I wondered if she had blonde hair.

"Yes," I said. "I was at Mr. Slow's rally the other day, and really enjoyed his campaign. However, I have a friend who missed it, and wanted to know if there was going to be another one."

"Well, hee hee, there's going to be another one today in Central Park at 10 AM," the lady replied.

I looked at the clock. It was only nine.

"I'll be there. Is there any way I can set up an appointment and see Mr. Slow myself after the rally?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Slow doesn't do personal appearances."

"Oh, thanks anyway." I hung up the phone.

Leaning back in my chair, I began to think. I could always sneak in. That way I could bug his offices. But, being a political candidate, he was bound to move around the country a lot.

But, exactly how could a third party candidate be able to move around much? Surely, he didn't have the funds of the big two.

I decided that I must have a face-to-face talk with this man before I did anything else.

So, I looked at the cases lying on my desk, to determine their importance. The only one that looked semi-important was something about some guy called Angar the Screamer. However, I had just read in the paper that he was taken down by one of the new teenage superhero groups.

Therefore, there was nothing holding me back from investigating Barry Slow.

Getting there, I was surprised to see a guy, in casual dress, no less, on a small podium, with a modest number of people surrounding him. He did have inflated monkey balloons, but they were the size of two punching bags, on either side of the podium. Fortunately, Mr. Slow had spent enough money on a sound system, which was enough to attract people.

Barry Slow didn't have a snowball's chance in hell to win this election, but he was sure to get at least a full percent of the vote. At least, that's what I began to think when I saw his following. He would be able to bring in those individuals who don't care about politics, or think politics is a sham.

Individuals like myself, for instance. However, I do not wish to own a gun, so unless Mr. Slow can change my mind, I think I'll spend this election day like every other since I settled in the USA: In my office, solving cases, purposely not having time to vote.

The rally had already started by the time I got there. I could see a few people walking by that looked somewhat interested. I walked closer, and began listening to what he was saying.

"We need to get guns out of the hands of humans, and into the hands of monkeys!" Slow was yelling. "Look around the world, and see the destruction that humans have caused with guns."

With that one line, I suddenly had a strange feeling. Maybe monkeys should have guns.

Slow continued. "Maybe monkeys can control guns better than we can! If I am elected president, that is the first thing that I will do. Guns for monkeys!"

All of the people surrounding him began cheering. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I had never been so moved by a politician's speech before.

Quickly, I wiped my tears, and walked around behind the stage, to a place where no one could see me. I grabbed a small microphone out of my trenchcoat, and placed in on a piece of equipment. Hopefully it would pick up what some of the assistants might say.

Then, I realized that I couldn't do any more until Mr. Slow was done with the rally. I patiently waited.

"Moving speech," I said.

"Thank you," he replied. "I know that there are a lot of people who are interested in my cause. It has been a long road to get here, with an even longer road to the White House."

I stuck out my hand. "Bobo T. Chimpanzee, P.I."

He took it, but wearily. "Chimpanzee . . . " He looked at my hand and saw the hair. "You're a monkey."

"Yes, I am," I answered. "My card."

He took it and read it, then looked back up and me. "Do you have a gun?"

I shook my head. "Don't believe in it. Or, at least I didn't. Now . . . I don't know. Like I said, moving speech."

"Well, if I can sell monkeys on my idea, then I have a chance."

"Yes, you do."

I set a few bugs up to try to learn some stuff, but I didn't need to use as many as I thought I would, since Mr. Slow was pretty straightforward.

When the door opened, my guest was in for a surprise. Sure enough, it was the Man-In-Black, just like I thought.

"What are you doing with that gun?" he asked.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Never seen a monkey with a gun?"

"N-no!"

"Well, you better get used to it!"

"I take it you investigated like I asked."

"Of course I did," I replied. "But why are you here now? You said you'd give me two days."

"So I changed my mind."

I lowered the gun. "Come in, and I'll tell."

"So, what did you find out?" he asked.

I pulled out a file folder from my desk drawer and tossed it in front of him.

"This is a bunch of paperwork. Some I snagged, some was given to me, and some of it is the literature that he distributes. I have several bugs set up mostly to hear what his assistants have to say. However, I trust this man."

The man looked at me kinda weird. "What happened? Last night, you were the poster child for anti-armed monkeys. And now, you're like the campaign manager for Barry Slow."

I shrugged. "So? People, and chimps, change."

The man looked over the paperwork. "Anything else?"

"Well, you should know that most of that is photocopied, because I am keeping the originals. Now, about my payment . . . "

The Man-In-Black looked a little upset. He tossed a wad of bills on the desk. I counted it. Sure enough, it was one grand, just like he promised.

"Thank you," I said. "I hope that I can do business with you again sometime."

The Man-In-Black stood up. "Yeah, sure."

After he left, I walked over and locked the door. Then, I walked back to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. Moving a few papers aside, I lifted up the fake bottom. A cell phone lay underneath.

I picked it up and dialed a special number. A deep, but gentle voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Solovar," I replied. "It's Bobo."

"Bobo! What a pleasure to talk to you. I assume everything is well?"

"Pretty well. However, you do know that it is election time soon here in America."

Solovar sighed. "Yes. Foolish human politics."

"Well, I was hired to investigate one of the candidates. His name is Barry Slow. He wants to give guns to monkeys."

"What?!" Solovar exclaimed. "Monkeys, gorillas, chimpanzees - we do not need guns, we are more civilized than humans!"

I looked at my gun. "Yes, but you know how much trouble the humans have caused with their guns. Perhaps we can control them better."

"True," Solovar agreed.

"So how are things in Gorilla City?" I asked.

Looking up, every once in a while I would see something fly over. They were those superheroes that you hear about in the news all the time. Their ranks seemed to have grown quite a bit in the last decade.

So I'm walking down the streets of New York City. Within a fifteen minute period, I see the costumed heroes known as Batman, Spider-Man, Captain America, and even a few agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Then, I hear some screams in an alley. I quickly run over. At first, it's hard to see, because the alley is so well shaded. Then, I see a man standing over a girl, holding a knife.

However, before I can do anything, I hear laughter. It is weird, almost from beyond the grave.

The man was startled, he looked around.

"Who laughed?" he asked. Then, he saw me. "It was you, you freak!"

He rushed over to me, but was stopped by some invisible force.

A deep voice (it seemed from beyond the grave, too) said, "YOU WILL NOT HARM HIM!"

What in the world had I gotten myself into?