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So FunJungle had eight gigantic windows to view them through—and even a pricey restaurant where the prime tables were right against the glass; guests could have a fourteen-dollar hamburger and watch hippos swim past a foot away. You can’t do that in Africa.
As J.J. often pointed out (incorrectly): “Mickey Mouse is just a rat in suspenders.”
Any concern I’d had about getting into Henry’s pool quickly drained away.
He was the one who’d proposed that the ALF was behind the attacks—but who also had the ability and the money to fake any evidence he needed to prove it.
Thankfully, it was so dark in the restaurant no one could see my face had turned red as a baboon’s bottom.