Buy Chimpman Zee on Amazon

i’m the chimpman. but you can call me zee.

Zee is a private eye in 1950s Hollywood. A place where the rich and successful live cheek by jowl with the poor, the broken, and the rest. A place that epitomizes the American Dream, but also a place where criminals thrive in dark alleys and Beverly Hills mansions. A place where a mobster can be gunned down in his ritzy front parlor. A place where a fourteen year old girl can be an addict and a whore.

But Zee is not a typical private eye. He has a past. A past so incredible that most people are blind to it, no matter that it marks every part of him. He is unnaturally strong and hairy, his bones are all but unbreakable, and he is plagued by his alter-ego -- a creature he calls the animal.

In a series of nine stories we follow Zee through his current cases and his past, from his escape to America as a child, to his years in an orphanage and Joiliet State Penitentiary, to Hollywood, and his early days as a detective, culminating in Zee’s discovery of his origins, and a deadly battle with a man who is determined to learn Zee’s secrets even if it means dissecting him to get them.



Slowly working through all the promotional material including a bit of a brochureware website. It has a few nifty features including a direct feed from the Facebook page. Hence this post in which I wanted to test a text based post since all we have so far are images. Anyway, watch this space, I expect the site to go live in the next week or so. Be sure to check it out when it does, it's a nice looking slab of pixels.

The Animal by Matty McMullen

Chimpman Zee by Matty McMullen

chimpman zee updated their cover photo.

chimpman zee changed their profile picture.

chimpman zee changed their profile picture.

chimpman zee changed their profile picture.

Hollywood, The Golden Age. I hate the cold. Sunny California’s gone missing. The rain aches for the ground and it keeps on coming. Could be some flash floods in the arroyos tonight. Never know what might wash out of the dark places on a night like this. That’s my business – the dark places. And what crawls out of them. I work the Strip, the Boulevard, the Hills, West Hollywood. Dark places, don’t let a layer of glitz fool you. You won’t find rich and poor more squeezed together anyplace else. Heaped in, cheek by jowl, all clawing their way to the top. Or trying to stay there. Like a pack of starving dogs fighting for one bone. Like a strung out junkie chasing one last taste. Like two drowning men savaging each other for a lungful of air. The movie stars and the hopefuls, the producers, the directors, the politicians, the whores, the pimps and johns, the pushers, the cops, the stand-over men, the blackmailers, the racketeers. All here. All playing sink or swim. It’s a jungle. Suits me just fine.I worked my shoulders a little deeper into my overcoat. A car rolled past, headlights shining through the rain like some deep sea monster looking for prey. Cold drops wormed their way under my collar. Goddamn I hate getting wet. I pulled my hat down a little harder, teeth clenched, my lips curled back like they had a mind of their own and it wasn’t happy. The animal is restless tonight. I jammed my hands into the pockets of my overcoat, jumped the swollen gutter, and made a run for it, shoulders hunched against the rain.