The Chimp's Dubious Tale

A bit of silliness below.

The chimp has no manners.
At two it flips a burger.
At three it gets off from work, stretches, belches, asks boss for an advance, which it doesn't get.
At four it ponders the nature of its feet. Or whatever the hell its feet are called. It can't remember as it's downed half a bottle of whiskey.
At five it rests, thinks about job-hunting. Thinks better of it, won't bother. Has a good life with current job. Well goodish. It's in the back, doesn't have to show manners to that type who wander in for burgers.
Drunken flashback. Trapped in a capsule. orbiting cracking blue. Was that a giraffe floating amongst fireflies, winking at it in a mocking tone.
Then the thump, thump, thump of the outside, the capsule creaking.
Thump thump thump.
Thump thump thump, the giraffe exploding, space piranhas exploding from its inside, coming at him.
Chimp watches, unsure what to do.
Screams like a girl. Or what he thinks a girl screams like, from movies.
Wakes. Sweating all over. Like at work.
Furious. Attacks the neighbours dog, a small dog that it roasts and eats. Then more whiskey. Drown out the sorrow.
Is now ten. Prepares to be a beast. Looks dapper when it stands straight, which it manages for a few seconds before crumbling into visual bad back and facial incoherence.
At eleven it crashes a nightclub, smacking around dull creatures while demanding respect. Jump and hits, jumps and hits. Gives its intended. It thinks. if it remembers right, which it can't be sure of.
At twelve it knows that it wanders the streets, as it feels the gravel on its face, can taste the cold dryness. Pulls away, tastes, pulls away, tastes.
At one it manges to look at itself in a mirror and wonder. Is it a man or a chimp?
Is a chimp of course. Those gorgeous locked knuckles gives it away.
Next morning it wakes.
Glasgow. Hates Glasgow.
Sweating, drags itself to work.