Old Tarzan

“One would think, Tarzan, that after all the good things you’ve done over the years, the things that have made you a living legend, you wouldn’t have to resort to applying for welfare,” says the social worker. “Certainly you must be in great demand for public appearances.”

The one-time King of the Jungle, now eighty eight years old, has found himself penniless and unemployable. In a last gasp attempt to survive in the modern world, Tarzan has swallowed his pride and is applying for financial aid at the Department of Social Services.He is about to undergo the preliminary screening to determine if he is eligible for government assistance. 

“Unfortunately, that’s not true,” replies Tarzan glumly. “You know the way this world is. People don’t care about past heroics. Everything is, ‘What have you done for me lately?’ And, in my case, the answer is, ‘not much.’ It seems that everyone has forgotten all the good things I’ve done. They just remember the most recent stuff.Do you know what happened the very last time I tried to warn native village about an approaching elephant stampede?”

“No.”

“Well, I tried my best, but…..,” says Tarzan, trying to hold back his tears. “I swear I tried my best, but by the time I got to the village, it was just too late. Everything was destroyed. So many lives lost. I tried running as fast as I could, but with the bunions on my toes, don’t ask about the agony I was in. Years of running through the jungle have played havoc with my feet. And I couldn’t swing from the trees to get there because the rheumatoid arthritis in my hands makes it impossible for me to  close them around a vine.”

“It seems like there are so many things in this world that can make life so terribly difficult,” says the worker trying to comfort the visibly upset Tarzan.

“You’re not kidding. It’s a…jungle out there.”

“Tarzan, I have to believe that, even despite all the things you’ve told me, people would come from miles around to see you do your Tarzan yell.”

“Oh, I stopped yelling about five years ago. I just lost it. Every time I’ve tried to do it since then, all I could do was cough up phlegm,” groans the Jungle King who begins to cough up phlegm. “Like this,” he utters, in between heaves.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says the worker, obviously disgusted; and as Tarzan continues his coughing fit to point of convulsions, the worker mutters under his breath, “and even sorrier to witness it.”

After almost a minute of hacking noises that were better of left in the jungle the coughing fit subsides.

“I’m O.K. now.”

“Good. Now, to get back to your application, I see you’ve requested the maximum amount of basic needs money. Just to explain what the department defines as a basic need: it’s really every necessity other than the rent. Clothing is a basic need. So is food. And money for transportation. Now, in your case, I’d have to wonder if you really need as much money for clothes as someone else would. It would seem to me that a wardrobe consisting of loin cloths is relatively inexpensive.”

“Look at this body. Do you think I can still get away with just wearing a loin cloth? I haven’t done that for over ten years. Once I passed seventy five, numerous pieces of my anatomy started drooping and hanging out. You don’t know how embarrassing it was. I’m wearing an orthopedic truss under this. I have to wear one all the time. And those things run into money.”

“O.K. That’s valid. I’ll just make a little notation here of that. It also says here that you have two dependents other than yourself. I assume one is Jane.”

“No. Jane died five years ago. Malaria.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Quite all right. At first, I took it pretty bad. But about three years ago, I met a wonderful woman. Esther Greenbaum. Believe it or not, she was on a African safari sponsored by a Lady Hadassah group. I really wasn’t looking to get involved. I just wanted to monkey around, but, before I knew it, I fell in love with her. And she fell in love with me.”

“It’s good to hear that something in your life is going well. I assume the other dependent is Boy.”

“Boy?!” Tarzan growls. “Don’t even mention his name to me! He doesn’t call. He doesn’t write. Not even a postcard. Fathers Day- I don’t hear nothin’ from him. He’s all grown up. Mr. Fancy Schmancy. He doesn’t need his father anymore. If it were up to him, he’d probably want me put away with all my other older friends.”

“A senior citizen center?”

“No, Lion Country Safari.”

“Boy,” sighs the worker.

“Do me a favor,” says Tarzan indignantly. “Don’t even mention his name.”

“Well, then, who is the second dependent?”

“Cheetah. That’s why I’m asking for the maximum food stamp allotment. I’ll need it for her bananas.”

“I’m surprised Cheetah’s still around.”

“Oh she’s great,” says Tarzan with a smile. “And she’s still the best friend I ever had. We don’t swing like we did in the old days, but we still have fun. We play gin rummy. On Sundays, we play a little golf. And she still looks great, too. Looks half her age.”