There was once an unemployed mime who had fallen on hard times. To make ends meet, he performed silently outside a zoo, hoping tourists might toss him a few coins.
One day, the zoo manager approached him, looking desperate.
“Buddy,” the manager sighed, “our star gorilla just died. Huge loss. Massive attraction. Any chance you could… wear this gorilla suit and fill in until we get a new one?”
The mime thought about it. Pretending without speaking? That’s literally my job.
“Deal,” he said.
Once inside the cage, he discovered this was the best gig of his life. He could sleep whenever he wanted, do flips, scratch himself dramatically, and pull faces at visitors. The crowds were bigger than he’d ever had as a street performer. His ego skyrocketed.
Then one day, trouble appeared.
The lion in the next cage started stealing the spotlight. Tourists flocked over to watch the lion roar and pace. The mime panicked—my job is on the line.
So he decided to level up.
He climbed to the top of his cage, swung over the divider, and dangled himself directly above the lion’s head, pulling outrageous faces and mocking gestures.
The lion went ballistic. Roaring. Jumping. The crowd went wild. Applause. Cheers. Phones out.
High on attention, the mime lost his grip.
SLIP.
He fell straight into the lion’s cage.
Instant chaos.
The mime sprinted for his life. The lion charged after him. Dust everywhere. Screams from the crowd.
In sheer terror, the mime forgot everything—his role, his costume, his entire career—and yelled at the top of his lungs:
“HELP! HELP! I’M NOT A GORILLA! I’M GONNA DIE!”
The lion tackled him, pinned him to the ground, leaned in close, and growled quietly into his ear:
“Shut up, you idiot. Do you want both of us to lose our jobs?” 😤