City Zoo: an unfairy story

By Jeff Pedigo

Allegorical fiction in the Orwellian tradition!

Welcome to the extraordinary City Zoo, where the animals have driven the people out and created a veritable nation of animals—a republic, if they can keep it. Their great experiment has been a resounding success—but when Gus the gilded elephant challenges Balthazar the revered donkey for the high office of Animal Zookeeper, the monkeys in the media go ape. Now the fairy tale news threatens everything the Visionaries of the Animal Revolution have built.

In CITY ZOO, Jeff Pedigo crafts a savage satire and cautionary fable about truth, fear, and power that might feel unsettlingly familiar to champions of Western civilization in the early 21st Century.

If you loved George Orwell's ANIMAL FARM, you will weep for the City Zoo.

THRILL! To the first Animal Revolution in the world, and the rise and fall of the incredible independent City Zoo. WITNESS! The classic political showdown of donkey versus elephant, covered responsibly by an exceedingly honest monkey news media. READ! The savage, satirical, and tragic farce and fable—CITY ZOO an unfairy story by Jeff Pedigo—the Essential Animal Allegory For Our Time.

MORE FUN THAN A BARREL FULL OF MEDIA PERSONALITIES!

Jeff Pedigo's Orwellian CITY ZOO is a biting satire of American politics, the formerly mainstream news media, the culture war, ex-twitter and social media, pop psychology, ideologues, identity politics, useful idiots, immigration, the well-meaning residents of Martha's Vineyard, narrative-driven journalism, masks, pandemics, lockdowns & quarantines, attacks on religion, white privilege, the 2020 Presidential election, January 6th, systemic racism, the entertainment industry, American academia, ANTIFA, CHOP, the intelligence community, political animals, public education, the tortoise and the hare, media personalities, pets, sustainabilityness, climate alarmism, "protests," and much more...probably.

All this, plus the true, long lost, and incredibly relevant moral of perhaps the most famous fable in Western literature, the timeless tale of the tortoise and the hare.

Read CITY ZOO by Jeff Pedigo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350959376

Jeff Pedigo

Mississippi author Jeff Pedigo wrote advertising for 30 years before writing this book.

Book preview

I | PROLOGUE

Gerald stepped out of the Paradise bar and walked toward 17th Street trying to make out the big iron gates of the City Zoo on the far side of the old freight yard, but they remained completely obscured by abandoned rail cars and overgrowth. Entering the abandoned psychology building on the corner, he made his way to the dim access tunnel in the basement. The long, damp corridor led him under the freight yard and the railroad tracks, under the barricaded access road and the zoo’s great stone wall, under Zoo HQ and Safari Station, and finally to the spiral staircase leading up to the Human Exhibit.

Gerald unlocked the door at the top of the steps and was pleased to find the room undisturbed. Bright orange curtains covered the far wall, floor to ceiling. A lime green sofa and loveseat occupied one side of the room with an orange and yellow kitchenette on the other. He set his briefcase on the orange card table. The air was stale but familiar: vinyl, standing water, animal dung. Everything was smaller than he remembered.

He heard a shuffling outside with some barnyard sounds. Emboldened by a shot of whiskey from the bar, he retrieved a piece of paper from his briefcase and powered up the public address system. Checking his watch, he took a deep breath…and flipped a switch.

With an electric hum, the orange curtains parted to reveal a wide wall made entirely of clear plexiglass. As the curtains shimmied to the corners, Gerald’s knees grew weak. Beyond the wall were gathered animals by the thousands, large and small (but mostly surprisingly large, Gerald thought). They covered every brick of Primate Plaza, all the way back to Rhino Valley and partway up Elephant Hill—and every single one of them was staring directly at Gerald.

A giant tortoise sat front and center, glaring at him. Atop the tortoise sat a bear cub wearing a pith helmet. Perhaps Gerald should have ordered another drink.

He tried to focus. In the middle of Primate Plaza stood a grand cascading fountain. The large reservoir doubled as a wading pool for young children while the low retaining wall served as bench seating for parents. Small animals now crouched upon it to glare at Gerald.

The pedestal in the center of the fountain featured a stone sculpture of three monkeys, larger than life, all sitting back to back (to back). Three large basins sat above the statuary, each half the size of the one beneath. One stone monkey held its hands flat above its eyes as if to look across at Zoo HQ, another monkey cupped its hands to its ears as if to listen carefully, and the third monkey cupped its hands to its mouth as if in mid-shout. Gerald remembered being frightened by these very monkeys when he was small. Then he recalled reading about the proverbial three wise monkeys in college, the ones who see no evil, hear no evil, or speak no evil. Those had something to do with propriety, Gerald remembered. He had no idea what these foolish ones were meant to mean.

Artists, he thought.

The Human Exhibit had been described as a joint scientific venture among the zoo, the city, and the college, although the exhibit had been shut down since the college moved to the county campus years ago. The flat-roofed, prefab box was billed as a modular dwelling of the future, and donated to the project by the manufacturer in return for a tax credit. The college required that every psychology major spend several lab hours living in the Human Exhibit, which the syllabus called an Experimental Socio-psychologic Observational Exhibition.

One of Gerald’s favorite jokes in college was that every psychology major was an exhibitionist.

Nobody liked Gerald. He had only majored in psychology to win over a girl. It did not work. The jokes did not help. He switched to a planning major instead, although nothing in his life had ever gone according to plan. Now an army of giants glared at him from just a few yards away. For the first time, he wondered exactly how thick that plexiglass was.

The zoo’s smallest creatures sat on the rail above the Human Exhibit’s educational placard. Gerald had no idea what kind of animals they were. Not squirrels. The text on the placard described the history, habits, and habitats of human beings, their callous disregard for nature, endless wars, litter, that kind of thing. The Most Dangerous Animal In The World, screamed the placard’s largest letters. Other small creatures sat along the bottom of the glass. Several bears and big cats lounged behind these (but still much too close, Gerald thought). The animals got progressively larger and taller the farther back they went. Together the beasts appeared as some writhing amphitheater rising up before Gerald. All the shapes and stripes and spots and colors and patterns and twisting horns and branching antlers made his head swim. He felt overwarm. Surely, he would die here. How had it come to this?

It turned out that Gerald was the only person in city government to have visited the City Zoo as a patron and also as a student inside the Human Exhibit. It was this critical mass of experience which made Gerald qualified, to deliver the Mayor’s official proclamation to the animals when the Mayor was unexpectedly called away and had to back out at the last minute.

Gerald was not a man of the outdoors nor a student of biology; he too had tried to back out of it. He reminded everyone that his college years were long ago and that he had not majored in psychology after all, and that he was only seven years old when his mother took him to the zoo that one time—and they had to leave early because Gerald was so easily frightened…but that plan did not work either.

The Mayor had kept the troubles at the zoo over the last several months a closely guarded secret, even from others in government, so it was hard to verify what was true and what was not. Official rumor had it that the animals had gone berserk one evening last year, killed or frightened off all of the zookeepers and security, and then locked both the main gates and the service entrance behind the old farmhouse. Finally, they sent word to the mayor’s office that they would handle things from now on, thanks.

The authorities attempted to take back the zoo many times but to no avail. Once after several months of failed incursions, they were able to push the animals back to Creature Cavern, but were ultimately overwhelmed. The Mayor lost many fine officers. But when he heard that several of the zoo’s most dangerous predators had been injured or killed as well, he sensed weakness. He told the SWAT unit that he was counting on them to bring the whole affair to an end. What he did not count on was monkeys with firearms. The primates had gathered them from the dead, and wielded them with surprising accuracy.

Gerald noticed the primates now gathered primarily in front of Monkey Island across the plaza. The island featured an impressive reproduction of a stately medieval castle, complete with towers and parapets and battlements. Around the castle were numerous small structures reminiscent of doghouses. Monkeys perched on these to glare at Gerald. The gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans had all come over from the Go Ape! exhibits next door, and now sat on some benches and along the edge of the Monkey Island moat. Numerous monkeys frolicked round the castle behind them like children on a playground. None of the primates seemed to be packing, but Gerald could not help but wonder if the plexiglass was bulletproof.

The Mayor had been forced to switch to diplomacy after being forced to switch from being a right-handed person to being a left-handed person; Gerald was not privy to the details. Still, it fell to him for some reason to deliver the city’s ultimate recognition of its ignominious defeat. In so many words.

A flock of geese overhead caught Gerald’s eye, and it occurred to him that he did not see a single bird in the plaza before him. No ostriches, no penguins, no peacocks or flamingos, no colorful parrots or toucans, not even pigeons.

Gerald remembered when he was seven years old how frightened he was of the zoo’s pigeons, how they desired his soft pretzel.

Clearing his throat, Gerald pressed the rectangle button on the PA system microphone and said…something that nobody could understand over the ringing feedback now spewing from the loudspeakers. The sound laid ears back across the plaza and set the animals wailing and stamping. Mercifully, the noise faded quickly. When the animals settled, Gerald said again into the microphone, less loudly: Good afternoon. I shall now read an official proclamation from the Mayor. He flinched when his P popped like a kettle drum over the loudspeakers. There was once again a slight ringing noise under his voice. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat once more, and with great care, read from the piece of paper that the assistant to the mayor’s assistant had given him: ‘Greetings and salutations, animal neighbors and creatures of the City Zoo. Please pardon my absence today as I was called away on pressing business. Nevertheless, I have enlisted one of my trusted aides to deliver to you this very important proclamation. Please do not kill him.’ Gerald hoped that this might be a joke. The animals did not seem to get it.

‘Whereas, some months ago the animals of the City Zoo embarked on a path of self-actualization unprecedented in all of natural history, the violent expulsion of all human beings, followed by further vicious acts and the rejection of all overtures of reconciliation from the city; and having already organized for themselves a system of representational leadership, the animals of the City Zoo state categorically that they wish to manage their own affairs.’ Barks and whoops rippled through the crowd.

"‘Whereas, the City Zoo had already become a great financial burden to the city as attendance had been falling for years while staff and maintenance costs continued to rise; an exploratory committee had already convened to discuss bulldozing the zoo to make way for new developments, and determined ultimately that the continued flooding of the Wilder River renders the bulk of the real estate virtually worthless for commercial application; likewise, any new development would also necessitate addressing the sorry state of the nearby freight yard, and the vacant and crumbling buildings, and potholes along 17th Street, which would all be very expensive.

"‘Whereas, the city has instead opted to take advantage of new federal tax incentives and have the entire zoo property formally classified as an Officially Posted Government Protected Wilderness Conservation Preserve. ’"

(It was clear the animals did not know what to make of this. While it was true the city had received federal dollars for reclassifying the zoo as something official, it was not a preserve. Instead, the Mayor pinned all the zoo’s troubles on deceased Zookeeper Mike. He told the people of the city that his administration had rescued as many of the animals as possible, and had them transported to safety via rail. Then he made every surviving employee of the zoo, the police and fire departments, and his entire administration sign strict nondisclosure agreements. He then declared the zoo indefinitely closed and all of its structures condemned, and barred entry to the entire grounds on the grounds that it was now an Officially Posted Prohibited Government Emergency Zone due to flooding, disease, potential radiation, and the presence of a few leftover and very dangerous—though not endangered, he assured everyone—escaped zoo animals running around inside the walls, out of control, no doubt rabid and craving death. Do not go near the zoo, the Mayor said, unless you craved death also. Nobody doubted him when he tried to pound the podium with his missing right fist.)

‘Whereas,’ Gerald continued. ‘This proclamation duly indemnifies the city, absolving same of any negligence and/or damages and/or liabilities to anyone, anywhere, and at any time with regard to the City Zoo and/or its current and/or future inhabitants; the exceedingly generous terms along with the last remaining key to the last remaining exhibit under the city’s purview, the defunct Human Exhibit, will be delivered to the City Zoo via post due to ongoing safety concerns. Please do not kill the postman.’ There was an eruption here among the animals which sounded a little like laughter. Gerald was glad that he had never joined the service, as he used joke in college.

‘Now, therefore, be it known this day, that the city hereby and henceforth officially acknowledges that the City Zoo and its various habitats, and the animals dwelling within, are from this day forward to be regarded as well and truly free, sovereign, and independent.’

This needlessly wordy statement threw the animals into the wildest excitement. Those that could roared. Others reared up on their hind legs. The monkeys danced and applauded like people, which Gerald found unnerving. Risking more feedback from the PA system, he continued over the din. ‘In a few moments, the back door of the Human Exhibit will be closed and locked for the last time, welded shut, and barred on the other side by two layers of bricks and mortar. The key to the exterior door will arrive in the mail next week.’ The animals cheered. ‘In conclusion, the city wishes you great success with your great experiment. After millions of years of violence, bloodshed, murder, and running for your lives, we are glad that you have finally figured everything out. Good luck.’

Gerald read the Mayor’s final salutation and lowered the piece of paper. Most of the animals were already walking away. Little pouches of muscle covered in fur and claws at his feet propped up to look at him, leaving tiny pulsating clouds of condensation on the glass. Were they weasels? Gophers? People at work sometimes referred to Gerald as a gopher. Did he really not know what gophers look like? Thanks, he said to the creatures, only now considering the absurdity of standing in a dated pretend apartment reading a proclamation of questionable validity to a bunch of zoo animals. Yes, time for another drink.

Gerald switched off the PA system and watched the animals disperse. He had not known what to expect from today’s exercise, but it was not… this. The animals were free from their enclosures, but they were not trying to kill one another. They seemed lively, but calm and orderly, at ease, certainly not like the paranoid animals on television. They seemed…familiar with one another, unified in some way, as if animated by a common spirit.

Perhaps the Mayor was not being fair to them, Gerald thought, all the chaos and murder notwithstanding. It had been some time since the sensational Massacre at the Zoo! as the newspapers had reported it. If the animals wanted to make their own way, they seemed to be doing a good enough job of it so far. He wondered what the future might hold for them, a fair society of animals. He doubted that he would ever find out given the Mayor’s comprehensive campaign of secrecy and misdirection enabled by his allies in the media.

Three men in hardhats had arrived and already begun stacking bricks in the doorway. As Gerald packed up his briefcase, a twinkle caught his eye. Something atop the Monkey Island castle flickered in the setting sun. At ease now and intrigued, he retrieved the binoculars he remembered from college, delighted to find them still in one of the kitchen cabinets. Wiping the dust from the lenses with his tie, he trained the binoculars on the castle and found the source of the twinkling to be…indistinct. Some small, shiny object. After Gerald adjusted the focus, it appeared to be…a telescope of some kind? Or…

Dear God, it was a rifle scope.

Attached to a rifle.

With a silencer!

Before Gerald could blink, the scowling face of a monkey appeared above the weapon, its wide nose colored bright red with fluorescent blue cheeks on either side, like some kind of war paint. The alien beast leveled a steely gaze directly at him.

Gerald set down the binoculars, collected his briefcase, stepped gingerly over the bricks in the doorway, and hurried back to the bar.

II | REVOLUTION

The city’s recognition of the City Zoo’s independence and the surrender of the final key to the final locked exhibit marked the end of the first animal revolution in the world. The Revolution had been conceived more than a year prior, cast from the remnants of escape plans, fractured and amorphous. It was thanks only to a select group of Visionary animals that the competing plans coalesced into something far more radical and subversive, unprecedented in the animal kingdom. Coincidentally, the earliest Visionaries were exclusive to the City Farm & Petting Zoo, Monkey Island, and some of the Go Ape! exhibits as well as the easternmost paddocks of the Grasslands. These had unobstructed views of Primate Plaza and Zoo HQ—and where the fences converged in the back corner, the animals had plenty of privacy in the late evenings for spirited conversation. The primates were generally considered to be the cleverest of those represented, but most of their brain power seemed to be dedicated to frivolous disagreements, inconsequential gossip, and coming up with clever insults.

The conversations and debates among the Visionaries often lasted into the early hours. It was during one of these long nighttime conversations that the Visionaries concluded that any escape plan would serve only a small minority of the animals. Outside the walls lay the bustling city, the rushing Wilder River, and the suburbs in the county. The zoo property was situated on a wide peninsula formed by a horseshoe bend in the river which washed its walls on all sides opposite the city, so the surrounding wilderness was sparse. Some of the river animals might make it all right, but for the vast majority, escape would surely mean the end of them. The monkeys thought themselves invincible, but most of the other animals were not so sure of themselves. Certainly, the farm animals would never make it on their own. We are all of us like the farm animals: most have never lived in the wild, Old Sam the giant tortoise argued. We have little experience finding food or shelter, or protecting ourselves. If not for my shell, I might have died long ago. Others do not have such defenses, he said. The zoo must be their defense.

The rest of the Visionaries were intrigued by this idea of a common defense: in addition to mitigating external threats, the arrangement would also allow for the arbitration of disagreements among the various animal habitats, a fine substitute for war. It soon became clear that whatever liberation the animals sought, it must be together, and it must serve a majority of the animals. Our society must be one where all animals are treated as equals, Sam maintained. Equals not in strength or stature—an impossibility—but in the weight of our opinions. Though some voices will surely be louder than others, they must not be allowed to overwhelm the majority.

The animals found the idea of serving the majority very interesting. The herd abides, observed one stocky bison, but when hoof comes to hightail, the ‘majority’ tend to look out for themselves.

The continued exploration of these ideas led finally to discussions about the differences among the animals, and the implications of those differences. By way of oral tradition, tales passed down from parent to progeny and old to young throughout the zoo told of grueling travels from every corner of the world, of undulating voyages in the bowels of mighty ships, and adventuresome caravans pulled by horses, camels, elephants, and locomotives across all of desserts, plains, and mountains. The ancestors of the zoo’s animals, it was said, endured ages of misery, hunger, disease, and torture—and yet survived. They came from every kind of wilderness imagined, and from exotic menageries all over the world, royal collections, animal sanctuaries and blood-soaked coliseums alike, traveling circuses and carnivals, research facilities, and expansive estates surrounding expensive mansions. Most were rescued from certain death by people, if only for their amusement or scientific study, or so they could take their milk or eat their children. Of course, the whole truth was indescribably complicated and rich with nuance, most of it lost to the memories of feeble minds; such is history.

The ancestors of the animals had come from all over the world, and they were all very different from one another. They required different habitats and different diets, and they all had different ideas about how things should be done. The point being they had each developed a slightly different way of thinking and working things out. The larger point being that they were individuals —and regardless of their species or size, or other physical characteristics, they each had individual aims and goals, singular dreams about how they wanted their lives to turn out. The Visionaries believed the City Zoo could help the animals realize these—if only it was set up to serve the animals, instead of a bunch of people wanting to stare at the animals.

Confinement lends itself to introspection and spiritual exploration. Most of the Visionaries were Godfearing animals with an ancient and cherished spiritual tradition. They received great inner peace and satisfaction from regular worship and prayer in fellowship. It stirred within them a form of responsible selflessness rarely seen in the animal kingdom. For the animals, God was manifest in the sky, omnipresent. The sun was the bright eye of God for watching over the day, and the moon was the pale slit eye of God for peering into the night. The stars, which resided in Heaven, represented the light in the eyes of every animal come and gone, and yet to be. The clouds did not figure into it much except to get in the way. However, some