The Great Chimpire-Vampanzee Debate


“Blandford, do you think such a thing as a vampanzee could exist?”

“What is a vampanzee, Fitzhugh?”

“Well it’s part vampire, part chimpanzee, of course.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous? If someone can conjure up the notion that humans can become immortal blood-drinkers, why can I not conjure up the notion that the same such transformation could indeed occur in chimpanzees?”

“No, it’s ridiculous that you call it a vampanzee when clearly, it should be called a chimpire.”

“Chimpire? You fool, Blandford…how silly!”

“How is that silly?”

“It sounds so…tyrannical.”

“Certainly, it does! That’s what makes it so fitting. It’s alarming, as if it might conquer the whole of us. Besides, Fitzhugh, calling it a vampanzee reminds me of that flower…the one the athletic fellows used to call me in my youthful days.”


“Yes. That’s the one. And a creature as intimidating as chimpanzee vampire should not sound like a flower that carries connotations of weakness. Besides, the chimpanzee part should precede the vampire segment to clearly delineate it as chimpanzee…you know, for identification purposes.”

“Blandford, I vehemently disagree. A vampire-chimpanzee grammatical construction results in the word ‘vampire’ playing the role of an adjective and maintains the emphasis on the chimpanzee. Plus, chimpire sounds so clunky. Vampanzee rolls off the tongue with far more zest.”

“Zest? You don’t want zest in your monster monikers. You want it to be fretful and loathsome.”  

“I want zest! Besides, I conceived the whole vampire chimpanzee concept. So I should be the one to decide.”

“Well then, Fitzhugh, let me propose this: whoever is the first to locate and identify a specimen of said being shall be given the honor of naming it. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“No, it does not sound agreeable in the least! Because I brought it up in the first place. It is a creature that I theorized could exist, and you simply jumped on it like some sort of plagiarizing, parasitic pirate.” 

“There is no need to use such vulgarities, Fitzhugh!”

“You’re right, Blandford. I take it back. I do beg your pardon.”

“Thank you…forgiven. Besides, how would two old buggers like us even make our way to the jungle to locate one? Far-fetched bit of tomfoolery to even fantasize about making such a journey, don’t you think, Fitzhugh?”

“Ha ha! Quite!”


“Yes, Blandford.”

“Do you think such a thing as a chimpanzombie could exist? You know, a chimpanzee zombie?”

“Blandford, now you’re just copying me!”

“If you are allowed to make wild theorizations about unholy DNA combinations then so am I!”

“Fine…then I will suggest it be called a zombanzee instead. How do you fancy that?”

“You are an impossible dolt, Fitzhugh!” 

“And you, Blandford, are a hackneyed imbecile!”

“Perhaps it would be best if we did not speak to each other!”

“I could not agree more! Silence would be considerably more enlightening than the drivel which is emanating from your mouth.”

“That is satisfactory to me!”





“Urrghhh…what is it, Blandford? Can you not contain your speaking for even one moment?”

“Fitzhugh, I’m sorry. I do not wish to fight.”

“Very well…I’m sorry, too. Perhaps I was a bit harsh with my words.”

“Thank you…forgiven again.”

“You, as well.”


“Yes, Blandford?”

“What about a chimpanshee? Part chimpanzee, part banshee?”



On the opposite side of a thick pane of glass, two youths stand mesmerized.

“Those chimpanzees are really screeching at each other.” 

“Yeah, they’re pretty angry. Look…one of them is grabbing the other by his ears! Ha ha! Stupid monkeys!”

“They’re not monkeys, butthead. They don’t have tails.”

“Well, you don’t have a tail, but you sure smell like a monkey.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m gonna shove my foot so far up your ass, you’re gonna think you got a tail!”


“Did you call me a pansy?”

“Pansy! Pansy! La la la la laaaa la!”



Back on the opposite side of that very same pane of glass, two chimpanzees stop tussling. 

“Look, Blandford…mirrored behavior…just as I predicted!”


“It is! It is, indeed! Now…let us see if we can’t encourage them to pick their noses!”

Tom Witkowski lives in Minnesota and is typically found avoiding respectable careers by working as a writer in advertising. This is his first published work. Other works can be found at his site,

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