TrZon in the concrete Jungle.

TrZon Came out of the Congo Jungle in 2008, Straight from Egypt, he flew in a GulfAir boing 787 to London, in first class. He was familier with the rules of the jungle. Hence he was not suprised when the pretty stewerdress came up to him with a bottle of champaigne 5 minutes into the flight. While a thin curtain separated him from the peasents from back of the aeroplane, he wasn't bothered. He was the King of the jungle. It is true the context have changed. He no longer had to ride unsafe vines and shout out loud thumping his chest to show everyone that he is the ruler of the wild. Here, he noticed everyone plays by different rules. With little bit of adaptation he could easily rule this modern jungle as well.

Boing 787 dreamliner

Trzon In the first class

He acted, as if he was the king. He walked with his chin high up in the air, with a little grin on his face, half shaved. More importantly he made sure that he wore the biggest sapphires from the depths of the Nile, which was given to him by the pigmies. He wasn't convinced that when they told the foreigners respect not the man but shiny things. But now he knew, as everyones eyes started to shimmer when they saw the big bloody Gem that he wore. He saw the pupils widen, and faces of females turn red like they were having an orgasm just by looking at it. Mixed with his enormous profile, there was no need to advertise who was the most important person on the flight. Even the Captain came to visit him during mid flight giving his regards, and thanking for chosing his aeroplane for the prestegious travel.

Shiny things

TrZon being the vigilant, silent observer, learned a lot about the modern world. Just a few hours through the flight. He ignored the noice from the back, observed. Being in the jungle all his life his eyes and ears were built to observe, not entertain. That's what made him a king. Here, in the 248 seat passenger airplane he observed what separates peasants from their Owners. He saw while the peasants were focussed on entertaining themselves scrolling through movies and music in their two feet wide seats, their Owners were busy. They were working, while drinking champaign, on their laptops. Typing, looking at charts, making things for the peasants to pay and consume. Some were resting, stretched out, gaining energy to do the same when they wake up. TrZon smiled to himself. He knew what he would do to. He would jiggle with numbers in his laptop, if that is the one which separates him into the first class.

Trzon in the concrete Jungle

Fast forward few hours, Tarzon was walking on the streets of London. He was looking at tall towers either side of the Thames River, and 🤔 thinking, who would build such magnificent structures? Who owns them anyway? Even though twice the size of an average man, it would take thousand years for him to build a column of one of the tall towers. But he knew, what he could do with a thousand Gorillas who share same intention and strength. Given the tools he would do that in a couple of years. He just needed to make a group of Gorillas and feed them with a dream.

He stepped into one of the buildings to see the internal structure. There were peasants lined up to get services, and some peasants providing services behind glass windows separating them. He saw the money being exchanged. He was sure someone watching all this process from upstairs. He could feel the presence of the owners, but he could see them nowhere. They must be travelling on first class to a remote island while these half brain dead peasants were working for them. He could see the eyes of the owners put up in every corner of the building, secretly turning 360 degrees, observing every move, and thickness of everyone's pocket. Accumulating data to plot the next big plan to empty them in thousands.

In London

By the time he came out he knew what to do. There is no hurry. There is no secret. He could either become an owner or be owned in this jungle. Someone's loss is the otherone's gain. Its a concrete jungle but rules haven't changed. He would be a hunter, not be hunted in broad day. He would hide his tracks, to confuse everyone who tries to revenge. He would make a pack of Gorillas to guard him when he venture during the day. He knew he was the king, so without fear he climbed to the top of the London Bridge to catch the last few rays of the dissapearing sun. And shouted, like he used to do in the jungle, making everyone shake in fear within a half a mile range.