Colonel Kong

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The face staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger’s. It was mine—of course—but not the person I thought I had known. His eyes… my eyes were dull and lifeless. For thirty-odd years, I had looked in this mirror and seen eyes full of energy and anticipation, wondering what the day would bring. But now, I was gazing into dark, hollow pupils, into an abyss of my own making.

I’ve felt this kind of despair before—when someone close to you shatters the image you had of them. The ground shifts, forcing you to rebuild your world with jagged pieces, a few missing. But this time, I was the one who caused the disappointment, and it wasn’t part of my world that had crumbled—it was my entire existence.

How could I have done it? Rex was my friend—or at least, he had been when all of this began. And it wasn’t what happened yesterday; it was everything I’d done the past year.

It all started at the Gorilla Lodge—where we’d get together with our buddies to play softball, drink beer, and talk smack about current events. That’s when Colonel Kong came into the picture. The name was silly, but fitting, because the purpose was to have fun and blow off steam. Nothing more.

At first, Colonel Kong was entertaining—a guy who gave over-the-top speeches no one took seriously. He was tall, past his prime, and tried hard to cover it up—his laughable hair dye and the way he always sucked in his gut were easy targets. We hooted and hollered at what he said, never taking him seriously. In fact, we often made fun of him. But looking back now, I realize I did not understand the words he was speaking.

Don’t get me wrong—it was English, and I understood each word but didn’t grasp the layers beneath them. I didn’t understand where the words would take me. I didn’t understand that the good-natured ribbing was the bait, the darker words were the hook, and the Colonel was reeling us in.

Colonel Kong made snide remarks about the Peacock Lodge—Rex, my neighbor’s lodge. We laughed, and it was all good fun. The Gorilla Lodge and Peacock Lodge had a friendly cross-town rivalry, and I’m sure they made jokes about us, too.

But what’s clear to me now—though I was blind to it then—was that his words were laced with something more. What sounded like harmless jabs were barbed with ridicule. Tap, tap, punch, tap, tap, punch. And if you dug deeper, it got darker.

That evening, I sat on the porch with Rex, like we did a couple of times a week. He was a short man, always neatly dressed, with a yard as tidy as his clothes. Rex’s ten-year-old son was a bright kid who could beat me at baseball trivia—it turns out Babe Ruth was also a pretty good pitcher. I used to joke that the boy was destined for great things, and I meant it.

I told Rex about Colonel Kong—what a buffoon the Colonel was, but a lot of fun. I even repeated some of the jokes he’d made about the Peacocks. At first, Rex laughed along, but after a while, I noticed his smile was forced. It didn’t take long before he stood up, stretched, and said he had an early day ahead.

As I walked back home, I wondered if I’d crossed a line, maybe offended him without meaning to. But then I brushed it off, figuring he was just having an off night. I’d apologize next time we talked.

But I never apologized, and looking back, I knew some of what I said crossed the line. Rex and I came from different backgrounds, so what seemed like harmless fun to me might have felt different to him.

Over the next few months, Colonel Kong kept giving speeches—boy, that guy could talk. The guys loved it, and so did I. We even chanted some of the phrases. It was harmless fun. If people didn’t understand, the hell with them.

Rex’s visits grew fewer and farther between, until one day, they stopped altogether. A month had passed without a word between us when Rex knocked on my door, asking to borrow my rake. Just like that, as if nothing had changed. But I could feel it in the air—something was off. The way he looked at me, the way he shifted on his feet—it felt like he was sizing me up, judging me.

I’d been in this neighborhood long before people like him started moving in. Still, I loaned him the rake. That’s what neighbors do, right?

Colonel Kong always talked about how people take advantage of you. Of course, he never said it outright—you had to read between the lines. Most of what he said was vague, always starting with ‘I heard’ or ‘people are saying.’ But we knew exactly what he meant.

Eventually, the jokes about the Colonel stopped. They didn’t feel right anymore. Sure, he had plenty of bravado, but beneath it was this undercurrent of insecurity. Besides, enough people outside the lodge were mocking him, and some of it got pretty ugly. We weren’t going to pile on. We had to stick together, because when they came after him, they were really coming after us.

His speeches were still entertaining, but the tone had shifted. By then, we were getting better at understanding what he was really saying. The Colonel was showing me things I hadn’t seen before—grievances I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. It felt good, like the blinders had come off. The world was full of problems, and people were coming for us. If we didn’t protect what was ours, it wouldn’t be long before it was gone. Thank God we had Colonel Kong to look out for us.

Some of the Gorillas didn’t like the way things were going. They disagreed with the language the Colonel was using—sissies, if you asked me. We kicked them out of the lodge. Traitors, the lot of them. Some of the guys sent them anonymous messages, real nasty stuff. I didn’t get involved in that, but honestly, they had it coming. Loyalty matters.

We had built a solid softball team that season, and our last game was against the Peacocks—Rex’s Lodge. It was the championship; everything was on the line. Rex was pitching when I stepped up to bat with the bases loaded. One hit or even a walk, and we’d be the champs. The count was full when Rex threw a pitch high and inside, right at my head. I managed to dodge it, but the ump called it a strike. Can you believe it? Rex nearly took my head off, yet the ump still called me out.

Colonel Kong wasn’t having it. He was sure the fix was in. If the game had been fair, we’d be the ones with the trophy, but the crooked ump handed it to the Peacocks. We filed a complaint with the league, but they didn’t do a damn thing. The whole system was rigged against us.

Back at the lodge, I started to wonder if maybe that ball had actually been a strike. I was so sure Rex had it out for me; maybe I’d overreacted. But Colonel Kong didn’t want to hear any of that. He and the other guys turned on me real fast. They said maybe I wasn’t a Gorilla after all. That hit hard. If I wasn’t one of them, who was I? Where did I belong?

Luckily, they got me thinking right again. I told them Rex had tried to bean me on purpose, and we were cheated out of that game. They patted me on the back and bought me a beer.

Then, I told them that Rex had borrowed my rake and never returned it. How he was becoming a real thorn in my side. That didn’t sit right with the guys. Colonel Kong said I had to stand up and fight, or Rex would take everything I had. He didn’t say it outright, but I understood what he meant. I promised him I’d get my rake back.

When I got home, I had a couple of beers and really got steamed. Rex and his kind were nothing but animals, scum, living off the hard work of their neighbors, sucking my blood dry. The Colonel was right; the time for action was now, or there’d be nothing left. The whole world was going to hell.

I got my deer rifle and headed to Rex’s house. He was in the backyard, playing catch with his boy. When Rex saw me, he told me to stay out of his yard. Can you believe that? This guy was giving me orders. Then, he told his boy to go inside. His boy only went as far as the porch and turned and watched. At the time, I figured good, he should see this. It would teach Rex’s son not to steal people’s stuff.

I pointed the rifle at Rex and demanded he return my rake. He insisted he’d returned it months ago, said he’d left it in my garage, where I usually store it.

I called him a liar, leveled the gun at him, and told him he owed me twenty dollars for the rake. His hands shook as he fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a crumpled ten—it was all he had. I forced him to kneel, pressing the barrel to his forehead. His son cried out behind us. I turned and saw the terror in the boy’s eyes, the crotch of his pants soaked with urine. He was trembling, on the verge of collapsing.

He was only a boy; like all boys, his father was everything to him. His eyes turned to me, unable to comprehend what he was looking at. In those eyes was the truth of what I had become—a brute, consumed in hate, blaming others for my shortcomings.

My God… what had I done?

Then, like when a fever breaks, clarity washed over me, and I knew everything the Colonel had told me was wrong. The words of hate and division, false claims of victimhood, and far too many lies to count.

How did this happen? How did I go from being a guest on Rex’s front porch to doing this unspeakable act?

I dropped the rifle on the ground and staggered back to my house, through the garage, past the rake hanging on the wall, to this mirror, where I stared in unbearable shame.

I waited for the police, positive Rex would call them. But they never came. I moved out of the house the next day and sold it shortly after. I had to; it was the only thing I could do for Rex, not anywhere enough, but it was all I had; I was morally bankrupt.

I never saw Colonel Kong or any of the Gorillas again. But there are more out there; they may go by different names, but the messages are always the same.

I could claim it was a siren song, that I was seduced. But the hate and delusion were mine, buried deep, waiting to come out. Having seen the crassness of my soul, I hope never to allow it to overtake me again. I’m determined to denounce the next Colonel Kong—and there will be more.

At least, that’s what I pray I do.