For a man of such stature as Carl Denham, you'd think that he'd be living in a palace-or perhaps a palatial hollywood mansion. Lord knows he feels like he deserves it.

Instead however, home is a near-enough-to-a-penthouse in New York.

And this is not the New York that Mark would know, although there are quite a few big similiarites. The people smudged with dirty and lackluster care. The police wandering about occasionally.

Opening the door Carl sighs, "Looks like another soup kitchen line. Be careful-those guys tend to grab at you." he hesitated, "...Thank god for small miracles."
But weather Carl's talking about his ability to find steady work or what is hard to say.

"Aiight! Line up!"
In a pathetic mockery of that infamous scene in Oliver twist the men and women begin to shuffle forward.

There's a family, a little girl and a mother and father. They pass Carl and his guest baleful looks.

" 's just a coupla streets over." Carl muttered, " C'mon."

Straightening his cufflinks, carl shot a desperate and dirty look at the door. Somewhere in another room down the hall a woman who would shortly become Mrs. Miranda "Millie" Denham would be getting dressed with that sister of hers.

He swallowed and wished for alcohol-but the clows up in congress had decided it was amoral.
Shaking his head he adjusted his tie for what seemed like the umptheenth time.

It was still amazing. Stepping to and from Ole' smuckies-Milliways (call it by it's proper-name Carl) was like stepping into color. stepping into brightness and joy, laughter, sunlight, magic...
Like stepping into someone's imagination.

He knew there was something fishie about it, something that kept drawing him back. Something that led him to leave Millie alone screeching about another woman...something....
Musical.

The studio was giving him looks, talking about Kong-asking when the HELL they were gonna be able to get the ape offa the docks-
That's where he was headed.

"Good evening Mr. Denham."
Carl tipped his fedora to the docksman. whistling.
"Haven't seen you around much sir." The dockman edged out from behind his table, "...wonderin' where you been."

"Busy." Carl checked his watch, he didn't know how much longer he was gonna have so why the hell was this fella even Talking to him?
That's right fella. Carl Denham. The biggest artist the world has ever seen. Stick with me Carl, stick with me and we'll go places...

And there was Kong.

The Music could not sway Carl around Kong.
Kong was too primal, too old, a deamon-god come to life and trapped by mankind. It skulked away beneath the beast's gaze, Kong watching it go with sad golden eyes.

What am Idoing?

Carl took a step back, amazed by the power and size of the animal. Not simply sheer physical power or size, not appearance, there was something about him that got under his skin and made it crawl...

"Hey fella." Carl scratched the back of his neck, "Sorry I uh-haven' been around ya know?"
The monkey's face remained impassive.

"But there was-well-I dunno I found this place. Jack and me-you remember Jack?" the air dropped a few degrees but Carl continued talking, heedless of the stairs from the dockside personnel.

"Anyway, I'm uh-there's thisMusical and uh-uh-"
Kong turns his great golden eyes on Carl and Carl freezes.

I know the music. Kong didn't have to say a word, it was all there, all plain as day, I heard it at the world's conception. It's the music that we're all taught and that you close your ears to because it hurts you deep inside.

Carl raised a tentative hand to his cheek, realizing that his eyes were wet-tears running down his face. Voice snickered far off and away, deep and cruel.

"That's it." Denham murmured, "It scares you. You can't look away. You're helpless you want to scream but your throat is paralyzed!"

How can a man with so much potential be so terminally stupid? Kong was obviously baffled. He scratched his head before walking in a circle, sniffing at the straw. Someone snickered-obviously better at reading monkey they he was.

Carl blinked, snuffling, "You ain't got no right to judge me Kong."

I have every right in the world along with the rest of my kin and brethren. You may consider yourself in dominion, but life is a system of checks and balances.

As if to demonstrate his point, Kong roared.
TheMusicTook an opportunity to sneak back in, curling in faintly through both Carl and Kong's ears.


Say, bus'ness is punk
And Wall Street is sunk,
We're all of us broke
And ready to croak.
We've nothing to dunk,
Can't even get drunk,
And all the while they tell us to smile.

"Jesus! somebody shoot the goddamn ape fulla trank again!"
A dockman ran forward as Carl stood paralyzed, frozen, as he'd been on the island. Glimpsing his future, his heart of darkness, proof perhaps of a higher power in the world.

Cheer up gentle citizens,
Tho' you have no shirts.
Happy days are here again.
Cheer up! Smile! Nerts!
All aboard prosperity,
Giggle till it hurts.
No more breadline charity.
Cheer up! Smile! Nerts!

"Chains! get the Chains! The Goddamn gorilla's going crazy!"
"Trank! trank!"
"Just SHOOT IT!-"

Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up!

Kong's Roar drowned it out for a moment but then the music swelled-

Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up!

Carl staggered back as Kong began to pound at the metal makeshift cage they'd built to house him. his back legs pawed against the wood, struggling-angered, enraged-
afraid?.

"Get outta the way Mr. Denham!"


Don't listen to the ape Carl.

Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer!
Better times are near.

Sunny smilers we must be, the optimist asserts.
Let's hang the fathead to a tree.
Cheer up! Smile! Nerts!

The bell sounding for the breadlines echoed across the city, and the very sound brought Kong to a halt.

"He's quiet! give him some air!"

Kong turned his great big eyes to Carl, and the sadness on his face was pitiful to see.

What can I do? the easiest option is there for you. For all of you.
Kong collapsed, exhausted. You want so badly to be children again but you destroy the things that you love

"Looks like he's quiet." A dockhand appeared beside him, "Sorry 'bout that Mr. Denham. We ain't seen you for a coupla weeks but he's never been so wacky as this before."

"No problem." Carl dusted off his fedora, "Any idea as to what caused it?"

"Girls mostly."
Carl blinked, "Beg pardon?"

"Girls. The ladies. Blond ones. He sees um go by he starts hootin' and hollaring. That and music-singing? There was a troupe o' vaudeville guys down workin' a shift at the docks and they started doin' their routine. That made the ape wild. He started smashing things, thought we were gonna have to put him down for good."

"Obviously that's not happening." Carl said, "I'll be back tomorrow."

He's got some place to be right now.

Leaving the place where the great ape's existence hangs in the balance, Carl took a look back over his shoulder.
Kong sat, hands foldeda cross his lap, almost human in his expression. he turned upward and his gaze met Carl's.

Carl fled.

For man changes the enviorment to suit him, because when faced with genuine nature, with genuine horror he must confess to himself that he's not the greatest creature on the food chain.

He is. In fact. Nothing special.

And so Carl fled, stepping back into a place that rang of the collective imaginations of a thousand others leaving Kong-living personification of the fury that mankind changed nature to prevent.

Doublepoasting like woah. ALL SORTS OF PLACES! *FEAR*

"ask my RP muses a question" meme. IC or OOC

IC-Talk to, John Preston, Carl Denham, Jurgen, Nancy Callahan, Robbie Preston, John Merrick, Ra's Al Ghul (Alias Henry Ducard) Ask them about their lives, their relationships, their favorite flavors of ice cream, their opinions on the world and they'll do their best to answer.

OOC-Ask me a question. hey, why's the sky blue? hey-what's your favorite kind of ice cream? hey, how come you're doing X-with puppets cause that's freakin' retarded or Why haven't you done this with puppets cause that'd be so cool?