VI: Monkey Pirate Island
“So Clover, how’s Doris doing these days?” Johnny Go asked. He lounged at the helm of the DayDrunk Believer, feet on the dashboard, sipping from a very nice bottle of rum. Dixie sat beside him on the floor, holding a whole coconut in her lap. She dug at the flesh of the coconut with her pearl-handled pocket knife. Johnny periodically reached over and poured rum into the opening.
Their orangutan chauffeur, Clover, stood at the wheel of the yacht, his eyes on the expanse of ocean ahead of them. His expression was stoic, as always. A navigation system blinked and beeped on the control panel in front of him. Outside the window, on a lower deck, the monkey Claudius could be seen lounging in a deck chair and reading a novel that he’d found on a bookshelf in one of the staterooms. Dixie and Johnny were enormously glad that Claudius appeared to be such a well-educated monkey. He would be perfect for their project.
They were cruising through the Caribbean Sea, heading toward Monkey Pirate Island, with the goal of collecting one thousand monkeys. They currently had only three monkeys, so they had a long way to go. The plan was to have a typing center fully staffed as soon as possible in order to prove that a thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters could, indeed, write Hamlet in a thousand years. This, of course, would also prove that Shakespeare was a hack, which was the more important goal.
Without taking his eyes off the water, Clover nodded. Johnny looked at him intently as he did, as if Clover was speaking, which he apparently was. And as if Johnny could understand him, which he apparently could.
“She did? With your brother?!” Johnny exclaimed. Clover nodded again. “I have to say I’m surprised.”
“Wait,” Dixie chimed in, “Clover, Doris had an affair with your brother?”
“Apparently,” Johnny said.
“Wow,” said Dixie, holding the coconut to her mouth and drinking down all the rum that was inside. “I didn’t think the old girl had it in her. She just comes across as such an irritating, old-timey prude.”
“Yeah, I figured she’d be way too dumb to actually carry on a secret affair.” Johnny paused and looked at Clover again.
“Oh, it wasn’t secret, huh? Well, that figures.” They were all quiet for a while as Clover continued to captain the ship. Johnny topped off Dixie’s coconut. “Listen, man, if it makes you feel any better, Dix and I always thought Doris was a stupid twat, so you’re probably better off without her.”
“Personally, I’m thrilled she won’t be around the ranch anymore,” said Dixie.
“Where is she now, anyway?” Johnny asked. He waited a moment while Clover answered, then he turned with a look close to surprise on his face. “You had to, huh? Look, no judgment from us. You already slept with her, so that makes it ok in me and Dix’s book.”
“I guess that’s the end of Chapter Doris, huh?” Dixie mused as she hacked a chunk of coconut out, pierced it with the knife, and handed it to Johnny.
“I guess so,” said Johnny, chewing on the coconut. He turned back to Clover. “What’s the law say about your brother in a situation like this? You gotta ice him, too?” The large monkey sighed, his shoulders slumped a little.
“Well, if he’s already an infidel, then I think the decision’s been made for you,” said Johnny. “Your hands are tied.”
“Yeah, but where is your brother?” Dixie asked, guessing what Clover had said based on Johnny’s responses. Dixie, unlike Johnny, could not communicate with any animals.
“Cuba?” asked Johnny, “Well, hey, after we pick up the monkeys, if you wanna take the yacht and head over there to look for him, you totally can.”
“Yeah, we won’t need the yacht once we get back stateside,” added Dixie. “And technically, it’s not ours to begin with, so…”
***
Later that evening, Dixie and Johnny sat on the deck with Claudius. They sipped more rum as they watched the setting sun turn the sky brilliant shades of red and orange. No one spoke, and the yacht sailed easily toward the horizon. Dixie finished her drink, slurping the last of the rum out of her coconut, then passed it to Johnny for a refill. He was about to tip the rum bottle into the coconut when a noise caught his attention. He looked around.
“Did you hear that?” he asked Dixie. She looked around and shrugged.
“Probably just boat sounds.”
“It sounded kinda… squeaky?” said Johnny. He handed Dixie the coconut and the rum bottle and got up to investigate.
“So it sounded squeaky,” Dixie said, giving herself a generous pour. “Boats squeak, don’t they?” Johnny didn’t answer. He was making his way toward the cabin immediately off of the deck. The room inside was the lounge area, with the bar, couches, the stereo, and the tv. They hadn’t really spent any time there other than raiding the bar. Johnny began to poke around, lifting couch cushions and checking behind tables. Eventually, he made his way over to a closet and pulled the door open.
He screamed.
Johnny Go slammed the closet door shut and ran back to the deck.
“DIX!” he yelled when he stepped outside. Dixie turned, as did Claudius, who had been nodding off on his lounge chair.
“What?”
“Dix, come in here right now. We have a huge problem.” Johnny turned and headed back inside. Dixie reluctantly got up and followed. When she entered the lounge room, she saw Johnny standing in front of the closet, his hand on the doorknob.
“Ok, I’m going to open this real quick, so get ready to look. But then I gotta slam it shut.”
“Uh, ok,” Dixie said. She stood by the door and waited. Johnny opened it a crack, then a crack more. Suddenly, there was a flutter, a squeak, and a squawk from inside the closet, and three small penguins lunged at the door.
“AHH!” screamed Dixie.
“AHH!” screamed Johnny, even though he knew full well what was in there. They both pushed the door closed and leaned their backs against it as if the little penguins had the strength to push their way out.
“How did those little fuckers get in there?”
“And how did we not notice them? We’ve been on this boat for, like, two days now, right?” They stood there, panting. Thinking. Finally, Johnny spoke.
“We have to get rid of them,” he said.
“No shit,” said Dixie, “But how? We don’t want them to get loose on the boat. They’re obviously good at hiding. And I am NOT touching them.”
“Good point. Ok, let’s think…” He sat down with his back against the door. Dixie went out to the deck, got the rum, and brought it back. They passed the bottle back and forth until they were both asleep.
***
Johnny awoke with a start, swinging the empty rum bottle around wildly. It flew out of his hand, landing with a crash in the middle of a stylish glass-topped coffee table. He looked around. It was morning.
Johnny gave Dixie a shove to wake her up. She was slumped over, her back against the closet door, her chin to her chest. She jolted awake, smashing her head on the door behind her. Inside, the startled rustling of penguins could be heard. Dixie looked at Johnny.
“Ok, what plan did we come up with?”
“Nothing, I don’t think,” he replied. “What was the problem again?”
“Oh, uh…” Dixie got up and staggered over to the bar. She took a full bottle of rum and opened it. “Good thing the people we got this yacht from were so into rum.”
“Seriously. Let me have some.” Johnny Go also got up, and as he did, the closet door began to rattle. They both looked over in horror as the memory of what was trapped in that closet returned. They jumped back to the closet and held the door shut.
“I don’t think they can get out because they don’t have those… things… you know, to work the knob?”
“Oh yeah, that’s why we didn’t want them for our project back when we thought they were monkeys.”
“What are those things called again?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Me neither.”
“Why are we holding the door shut, then?”
“In case they get out.”
“Right! We gotta get ‘em out of the closet and somehow chuck ‘em into the sea. But without touching them.” They both sat down again with their backs to the door. They passed the bottle back and forth.
“I think I have an idea,” Dixie said, finally.
“Ok, hit me.”
“We need a tunnel.”
“Like, down through the deck?”
“No, across it and over the side.” They were quiet for a moment as they both thought through the feasibility of this plan. Then they high-fived and got to work.
***
Several hours later, Dixie and Johnny had moved or disassembled nearly every piece of furniture in the lounge room of the yacht, and created a long corridor running from the closet, across the room, out the door, then across the deck. They both held fishing rods in their hands and stood on either side of the door.
“Ok, I’m gonna open the door. Hopefully, those little fuckers will run into the tunnel when I do,” Dixie said. Johnny nodded.
“If they don’t, we can just jab ‘em with these poles to keep ‘em moving.”
“And when they get to the end, they’ll just jump off into the water.”
“On three.”
“One… Two… Three..” Dixie flung the door open, and for a moment, nothing happened. She looked into the closet and saw the three penguins staring back at her.
“What the fuck.” Johnny peeked around the door.
“What?”
“They’re just standing there.”
“Should we throw something at them?”
“I guess. But won’t it make them go back more into the closet?”
“Hm,” said Johnny. “What if we just made a lot of noise?”
“Ok.” They both started screaming. Dixie smacked the fishing rod on the wall. Johnny slammed an empty rum bottle into the open closet door. The penguins didn’t move.
“Fuck this,” Johnny said. “Will you get me another bottle of rum from the bar? Might as well do something while we wait for these little shits to move.” Dixie crossed the room and took two bottles of rum from the bar. She handed one over the top of the tunnel to Johnny and cracked open the other one. Dixie took a long sip.
“I’m a little annoyed that we lost all those spearguns in the mermaid war,” she said, sitting on the floor. “We could have just killed these things without touching them.”
“I know. See, this is what I was talking about when I was worried that we’re getting soft. How do we not have any long-range weapons?”
“When we’re done with this project, we’re going straight to TJ. Harden ourselves up a little bit.” They sat there, sipping rum, for a long time.
Eventually, Claudius wandered in. He had a sleeve of saltines under one arm and an open can of tuna in his hand. With a nimbleness only available to monkeys, he hopped up on top of the haphazardly constructed tunnel and began to eat his snack.
A moment later, one of the penguins took a tentative step out of the closet. It looked up at Claudius and waved its flippers. A second penguin followed. Then the third. Claudius looked over at Johnny, who looked up from where he was slumped on the floor.
“What is it, boy?” he asked. Claudius raised a cracker with a lump of tuna on it and dropped it into the tunnel. The penguins jumped for it, with the biggest one getting the prize.
“Oh, I guess penguins like tuna,” Johnny said. Dixie got to her feet and looked into the tunnel. The penguins were looking up at Claudius, almost begging for more.
“Who’d have thought,” she said. “Johnny, let’s get a refill on our drinks and wait at the end of the tunnel while Claudius lures them out.”
It took about fifteen minutes to get the penguins to the end of the tunnel. When they got to the end, they stood peering over the side, which was a drop directly down into the ocean. Claudius was perched on the railing holding the empty tuna can. He looked from the penguins to Dixie and Johnny, who were sitting in deck chairs again. They were very drunk.
“What do you mean you don’t know what to do now?” Johnny asked Claudius. “Just tell ‘em to jump.” Claudius gestured emphatically. Johnny sighed.
“Well, you’re talking to me.” He paused and listened again. “What do I look like, a penguin expert? You’re the one that lived on Dancing Penguin Island.”
“Oh for fluffsake,” Dixie slurred, “Jus frow tha can inna the water. They jump.” She slumped over in her chair and began snoring.
“Y’hear the lady,” Johnny said before he, too, closed his eyes. Claudius looked at them and shook his head, then, with a shrug, tossed the tuna can into the water. The penguins looked frantically at the can, then at one another, and plunged headfirst into the water.
They were excellent swimmers, given that they were penguins, but as Claudius watched, he realized that even the best swimmers were no match for sharks. Within moments, the three penguins had been devoured by a large, gray shark. Claudius made his way slowly back to the galley for another can of tuna.
***
It was late afternoon the next day when the DayDrunk Believer glided into port at Meredith’s Monkey Pirate Island. Dixie and Johnny stood on the deck and watched with something almost like interest as Clover piloted the yacht to an empty dock and then set about tying her off. A flock of interested parties arrived, hoping to cash in on the new visitors as he worked. Dixie and Johnny looked at them and then at the port in general with surprise.
“Clover!” Johnny called. “I think we’re at the wrong island again!” Clover looked up and shook his head. He was an excellent chauffeur and navigator. This was the right place.
“But it doesn’t look anything like the brochure,” Johnny insisted.
“Yeah,” added Dixie, “And the last time we were at a place that didn’t look like the brochure, we were on the wrong island.” Clover turned to them again and was about to start explaining something when a man approached.
“Your captain is right,” he said, looking up at the yacht, “This place is the Monkey Pirate Island. You have sailed into the service port.”
“A service port?” Dixie asked.
“Ah, yes,” the man said, “Every resort must have a way to receive its supplies without disrupting the, how’s it called? Visitor experience. Those who live here use this port for all of our… needs.”
Dixie and Johnny stared down at this strange man. Despite the heat, he wore a white dinner jacket with an ascot and had a fez perched on top of his head. He seemed equally out of place and at home here among the monkeys. They pegged him as some kind of grifter and liked him immediately. Johnny Go jumped down off the yacht and approached the man.
“Thanks, man,” he said, offering his hand. The man shook it enthusiastically while keeping an eye on Dixie, who was making her way off of the yacht.
“I am Sydney Bugatti,” he said as Dixie approached. “Most of the locals here call me Señor Bugatti.”
“Name’s Johnny,” said Johnny, pointing at himself. He gestured to Dixie. “This is Dixie. We’re here to make a deal for some monkey laborers.”
“Ah, then you have come to the right place,” Bugatti said. “There are many fine monkeys for sale here. Come, I’ll take you.” He turned to leave. Dixie and Johnny started to follow but paused.
“Clover!” Johnny called. “We’re going to get some monkeys; we’ll meet back here in a few hours.” Clover started gesturing wildly at Bugatti.
“Oh, come on, Clover. He’s a nice guy.” He stopped and listened for a moment. “Fine, we won’t commit to buying any until we’ve met with Meredith. Jeez.” Johnny caught up to Dixie, who was a few steps behind Bugatti.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Ah, he thinks Bugatti is gonna ‘take advantage’ us, and he warned us not to buy monkeys from him because he might be a slave trader.”
“As if someone could take advantage of us!” They high-fived and then quickened their pace to catch up to Bugatti as he made his way through the bustling port.
***
Dixie and Johnny were pleased to see that, despite not looking anything like the brochure, the service port of Meredith’s Monkey Pirate Island was their kind of place. It was crawling with rough and grizzly monkey pirates, had all manner of cheap goods, and a thriving black market. Bugatti bought three meat skewers from an elderly monkey wench manning a small charcoal grill and passed one to Dixie and Johnny. As they walked, he pointed out things that might interest them.
“The main square was used for pirate battles and public executions. Now, is mostly used for trading.” Dixie and Johnny nodded and followed Bugatti as he headed toward an alley.
“This way is Bootlegger’s Market.”
“They got liquor there?” Johnny asked.
“They have all things.”
The alley narrowed and darkened, both because the buildings rose above it and because the sun was beginning to set. There were no glorious sunsets here. Just a thin layer of slime over all of the surfaces and an odor not unlike the alley behind a fishmonger’s shop.
They arrived at the intersection of the alley with another alley. Bugatti paused, then turned right. They walked a few moments more, passing monkey pirates, elderly monkey peddlers, all manner of crooks, hustlers, and Caribbean monkey gangsters. Occasionally they passed a human, clearly a tourist, looking terrified and turned on.
Eventually, they arrived at a building with a long row of windows lining the street. Each window had a red light above it and a monkey prostitute in the window. Some lights were out, and the curtains were drawn.
“This place has everything,” Johnny commented. Bugatti stopped.
“You like?”
“Uh…” said Dixie and Johnny.
“We stop.”
“Honestly, Bugatti,” Dixie said, “We’d really like a drink.”
“Yeah, which is nothing against these… very sexy monkeys,” Johnny said. “But Dix and I were sorta hoping to grab a drink and talk business with you.”
“Also, we’re kinked out,” Dixie added. “Still.” Bugatti nodded as if he knew what they were talking about and gestured for them to follow him. They continued down the alley. As they passed the last window of the brothel, the monkey standing there winked at Johnny and blew him a kiss. He nodded but kept walking.
***
They made several more turns, wending their way deeper into the underbelly of Monkey Pirate Island. Dixie and Johnny had no idea where they were or how to get back to their boat, but as usual, they just went with it. They turned down a street that seemed to be lined with bars and restaurants; however, all of them looked divey and possibly dangerous. They looked at one another and smiled.
“So, what’s the local hooch?” Johnny asked Bugatti.
“Hooch?”
“Yeah, you know, booze, liquor. What’s the one that they make here?”
“Ah, yes. You mean Ji.”
“Sure. What’s that?”
“Eh, the monkeys make it out of bark and some things. It is like, how’s it called? Shining moon.”
“So it’s monkey moonshine?” Dixie asked eagerly.
“Yes, yes. Monkey moonshine. You want?”
“Very much.” He gestured again and walked off. They followed and soon arrived at a very run-down bar. Bugatti nodded to the monkey at the door, who stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Inside it was dimly lit, smelled terrible, and had only several stools at the bar. Dixie and Johnny sat down and ordered, while Bugatti excused himself to what Dixie and Johnny assumed was the restroom, although, in retrospect, they didn’t know if monkeys used restrooms like humans when they weren’t participating in the human world. Then again, they didn’t see any shit on the floor, which was fine with them.
The bartender brought over two filthy lowball glasses filled with a brackish-looking liquid and placed them on the bar. Dixie and Johnny lifted their glasses, sniffed, and made a face.
“It smells a little like swamp water.”
“Looks it, too.”
“Well, bottoms up!” They both chugged the contents of their glasses, winced, and immediately signaled to the bartender for another round.
“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Tell me about it.” The bartender returned with two more glasses, and they chugged those, as well, then signaled for a third.
“Where did Bugatti go?” Dixie wondered. Johnny looked around.
“I don’t see him.” As he looked toward the back of the room, though, he noticed a door, which at that moment had opened. A lanky monkey in a ragged sailor’s uniform exited, folding a wad of money as he went. Johnny could see a poker table with several monkeys around it through the door. He jumped off his stool.
“Dix, there’s a backroom poker room.” Dixie got up from her stool, as well, and started walking away from the bar.
“Where?” she asked, walking in the wrong direction.
“Over here.” He pushed the door open, and they entered the poker room, heading straight to the table. They took seats, and Johnny thrust a crumpled, random assortment of various currencies onto the table.
“Deal us in!”
***
Within an hour, Dixie and Johnny had had several more glasses of Ji each, had offended one of the monkeys at the table, and were down the Monkey Pirate Island equivalent to one hundred forty thousand dollars. They never seemed to remember that they didn’t know how to play poker. Or any other card game. Johnny looked across the table at the dealer.
“Juss one more han’, mmmkay?” Dixie, sitting beside him, had one card in her mouth and a ferocious case of hiccups. With eyes like daggers, the dealer tossed more cards at Johnny. As he finished dealing, he looked up as the door to the bar opened. Bugatti entered and immediately took stock of the situation. He locked eyes with the dealer and nodded, then slipped out of the room.
Bugatti returned with two drinks and placed them on the poker table in front of Dixie and Johnny. They looked up at him, their eyes full of wonder.
“I’m a vee eye peeeee…” whispered Johnny.
“Thanks, Boobatti!” Dixie said, taking her drink and downing it all at once. She belched, then leaned back in her chair. “Johnny… play for me.” She nodded off.
Johnny lasted another round, alternately playing his cards and Dixie’s, then mixing them up, then getting frustrated and throwing them down onto the table. The other players watched as he, too, fell asleep at the table.
No sooner were Dixie and Johnny asleep than the other players at the table, the dealer, and Bugatti jumped into action. Bugatti fetched a large tarp from a back room at the bar and wrapped Dixie and Johnny in it. Then, with two monkeys holding their feet and Bugatti and another monkey holding their heads, they hustled the two drugged gamblers out of the bar and toward the docks.
***
The group struggled with their load as they made their way down a long dock toward one of the fishing trawlers. They stopped several times on the way to rest. The monkeys, who often did this kind of thing to tourists, were surprised that these two felt so much heavier. Bugatti was just feeling old and wondering if it was about time to give up this life.
When they finally reached the end of the dock, Bugatti called out to the captain of the fishing trawler. A burly monkey appeared on the deck. Seeing who it was and what they had brought, he quickly made his way down to the dock. After a short, largely silent negotiation, a roll of money was exchanged, and the captain shrieked, a signal to his crew to come out and gather their two new crew members.
Several other pirate monkeys, rugged and ruthless, appeared and made their way to the dock. They were about to hoist the slumbering shapes of Dixie and Johnny onto their shoulders and carry them aboard when a force hit them like two long orange-haired bullets and knocked them flat. They lay there on the rotten wooden planks of the dock for a moment before attempting to get up. When they did, they were knocked down again.
A fight ensued, in which Clover and another orangutan systematically put down all monkeys present, starting with the fishing crew, moving their way through the captain, then the monkey card sharks. Each ended up unconscious on the deck, bleeding or with limbs bent at unnatural angles. When they had dispatched the monkeys, they turned their attention to Bugatti, who looked terrified.
“Ok, fellas,” he said, raising his hands in the air and starting to back slowly up the dock, away from the orangutans and toward the safety of the red light district. “No harm was meant. Was not my idea, at least. I just help.” Clover and the other orangutan took a few steps toward him; their lips were peeled back in a snarl, and their teeth were bared. Bugatti shuddered and took another step back.
“Listen. We make a deal. I share money from captain with you?” Clover growled. The other orangutan reached his long arm out, swiping for Bugatti. He gasped. “Ok, I give all money! Please! Don’t hurt me!” However, his pleas fell on deaf ears because, in the next instant, both orangutans leaped into the air, landing on top of Bugatti and knocking him to the ground. He managed one good scream before they tore out his windpipe, then shredded the rest of his body. They stood over Bugatti for a moment, silently mouthed a quick Ṣalāt al-Janāzah, then bent over to roll the body into the water.
Just before they did, though, the other orangutan reached down and took the fez off of Bugatti’s head and placed it on his own.
***
Much later, a very groggy Dixie and Johnny awoke on the dock, looking up into the night sky. Dixie uttered a loud groan, and Johnny attempted to sit up.
“Dix,” he whispered, “We really are getting soft. I never get hungover like this.”
“I want to die,” Dixie groaned again. She sat up, as well, and investigated the tarp that was still tangled around her body. “What the hell happened to us? Why are we in this tarp?”
“The last thing I remember is the monkey hookers,” Johnny said. “Wait, we didn’t fuck some monkey hookers, did we?”
“No,” said Dixie, “I remember going to a bar after that. That guy took us, then he disappeared. I don’t remember anything else.” They sat in silence for a moment before Johnny looked up the length of the dock and saw two figures approaching.
“Great, who the fuck is this?” he asked.
“It better be that asshat Bugatti.”
“Yeah, if he knows what’s good for him.” As the two figures came into view, Dixie and Johnny realized that they were orangutans who looked like Clover. Dixie turned to Johnny.
“Shit, we’re getting soft and old,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I never got double vision from drinking before.”
“Me neither.”
Finally, the two orangutans lumbered up to them and stood, looking down. Johnny looked up at the two Clovers. It did not occur to either Dixie or Johnny that the orangutans looked different and moved at different times or that one of them was wearing a fez and the other wasn't. Clover was pointing down the dock toward a fishing trawler.
“Wait, you’re saying we almost got Shanghaied?” Johnny exclaimed.
“What?!” shouted Dixie.
“That spiral horn cabbage!” Johnny shouted. “That fucker Bugatti sold us out!”
“I’ll kill him! Where the fuck is he?!” Dixie demanded. Johnny looked at Clover.
“Oh, he’s dead,” Johnny said. He listened for a minute, then relayed the story to Dixie. “Clover and his cousin Sharif - by the way, Dix, we’re not seeing double. This is Clover’s cousin Sharif.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dixie said. The orangutan nodded.
“Anyway, Clover and Sharif were walking back from dinner, and they saw that asshole Bugatti and some trash monkeys dragging us down the dock. I guess Bugatti took a bunch of money from the captain of that fishing boat in exchange for us. Clover and Sharif watched, and when it looked like they were about to load us on the boat for some forced labor, they attacked them and saved us.”
“So Bugatti’s dead?”
"Yep."
"That explains the hat, then."
“Yeah, and the monkeys that were with him are dead, too. And the captain and his crew from the fishing boat.”
“That was a close one,” Dixie admitted. Johnny nodded.
“Yeah, thanks for that, fellas,” he said. Both orangutans nodded. Dixie and Johnny got to their feet, and the group started back up the dock, the orangutans leading the way.
“Well, I have to say I’m a little relieved.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, we obviously were drugged,” Dixie said. “Which is good because it means we aren’t hungover. Which means we aren’t getting soft.”
“Oh yeah!” said Johnny. “I still wanna go to TJ, though.”
***
The group made their way back through the warren of alleys and narrow streets of the red light district. Sharif seemed to know the streets well, and they walked more quickly. Dixie and Johnny attempted to wander into bars and gambling dens a couple of times, and Clover and Sharif quickly dragged them back out.
They rounded the next corner, and the alley opened up into a small square. This was not the same open gathering place where they’d docked their yacht. This was smaller, hemmed in on all sides by slumping buildings. Even in the darkness, it appeared dingy. A small crowd was gathered on one side of the square. It was a mix of fierce-looking monkey pirates, monkey gangsters, and a few shady humans. In front of the crowd was a small raised platform.
Clover and Sharif attempted to lead Dixie and Johnny across the square and into another alley. This had been intended as a shortcut. The two were drawn to the crowd, though, so Clover and Sharif accompanied them to keep them out of trouble.
Dixie and Johnny watched from the back of the crowd as a large monkey dragged another, smaller monkey on a leash across the stage. What followed was auction-style bidding, which was largely silent because the auctioneer was a monkey, as was most of the crowd. Johnny could follow what was happening, but Dixie was lost. After a few minutes, the auctioneer banged his gavel and pointed to someone in the crowd. A grizzly monkey with an eyepatch and a missing ear stepped up and claimed the small monkey, then made his way through the crowd before disappearing down a side street.
“What the hell is happening?” Dixie asked.
“It’s a black market auction of monkeys,” Johnny said.
“Should we just get our monkeys here?” Dixie asked. Beside her, Sharif grunted. Johnny looked over at him.
“Well yeah, I guess,” Johnny said.
“What?”
“These are monkeys selling other monkeys basically into slavery.”
“Right,” said Dixie.
“He doesn’t think this is a system that people should support.”
“Yeah, but…” Sharif seemed like he was about to say something, but Clover grunted, and Johnny looked at him.
“Clover says these monkeys wouldn’t be a good choice for our project,” said Johnny.
“Why not?” Dixie asked.
“Yeah, why not?” echoed Johnny. He listed for a minute.
“Oh, I can see that.”
“What?”
“Well, basically that there’s no way to tell where these monkeys came from, if they’re healthy or educated. He says that all the monkeys that actually work legally for Meredith are smart and talented, so we’re better off just arranging to hire them.”
“That seems reasonable. We do need them to be smart and have working fingers and stuff,” Dixie mused, “But what’s the price difference?”
“He seems to think paying them a salary instead of buying them is worth the difference.” Johnny paused for a second, then looked over at Clover. “What’s that about our souls?” But Clover had already shuffled on, heading out of the square.
***
“I guess Chichay was right,” said Johnny.
“About what?”
“Remember she told us we couldn’t steal the monkeys or buy them? That we had to hire them like actual workers?”
“Oh yeah. I guess that’s what she meant. I’m not gonna lie,” Dixie said as they walked toward the DayDrunk Believer, “That monkey auction bummed me out a little bit. Maybe we’re getting soft after all.”
“I know what you mean. It’s sad that some monkeys get sold at illegal night auctions.”
They arrived at the yacht. Clover and Sharif climbed aboard and headed to the helm. Dixie and Johnny went straight to the bar. The lounge room was still in shambles from the ousting of the stowaway penguins, with the detritus of the tunnel piled up in a mountain on one side of the room. Dixie began fixing some drinks while Johnny took a seat on the part of the couch that hadn’t been hacked to bits. As Dixie walked over with the drinks, they became aware of a soft grunting sound.
“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Johnny muttered. “Do you hear that? If there’s another fucking penguin in here, I’m going to burn this boat down.” Dixie put the drinks down on a piece of furniture that may or may not have been the coffee table, and she and Johnny began creeping around the room, looking for the source of the sound. Dixie checked the closet while Johnny rounded the mountain of broken furniture. When he peered behind it, he stopped and gasped.
“Oh! Sorry, Claudius!” he said, backing away but still standing there, staring. Dixie immediately joined him.
“Oh shit! Claudius, you have a girlfriend!” Claudius had been frantically copulating with another monkey on the floor behind the furniture pieces. They both looked up at Dixie and Johnny, Claudius showing a lot more shame than his partner, to whom he gestured while looking at Johnny.
“Nice to meet you, Gertrude,” Johnny said.
“So uh,” Dixie started, “How’d you meet Claudius?”
“In town, huh?” Johnny asked with a huge grin. “Say no more. Dix and I will be out on the deck enjoying a nightcap. You two go about your business.”
***
The next morning, Dixie, Johnny, Clover, and Sharif made their way across the island to the administration district, which Sharif had explained was the seat of the government, and the offices of the island’s ruler, Meredith. Sharif was going because he knew the way. Clover was going to keep Dixie and Johnny in line. Claudius and Gertrude stayed behind on the yacht, ostensibly to keep penguins from stowing away again, but we know that’s not really why.
Their walk to the administration district took them alongside the area of the island that had been given over to tourism. It was dramatically different from the service port. Dixie and Johnny rolled their eyes as grinning families whizzed by in pedicabs pedaled by monkeys and inspected handicrafts on display at a faux roadside market.
“Rubes,” muttered Dixie.
“Look at them, thinking they’re having an authentic experience. They’ll probably go their entire vacation without getting into a single knife fight.”
“Can you even call that a vacation?” A family, clearly from the midwest, pulled their six-person surrey bike up alongside them and clicked a few photos of Clover and Sharif. Sharif made a rude gesture as they pedaled away, and Johnny snickered.
“Dix, I really like Sharif.”
“Me too.” They walked on. Several other pedicabs passed them, each with a grinning family crammed into the back and a bored-looking monkey at the wheel. At one point, a pedicab passed, and Clover stopped short, staring after it, his eyes narrowed, his body shaking with rage. Sharif put a hand on Clover’s shoulder, and they resumed walking.
“What just happened?” Dixie asked quietly.
“I think the monkey driving that cab was Clover’s brother,” said Johnny.
“The one that slept with that idiot Doris?” Dixie asked.
“Yeah, but I thought he was in Cuba.”
“Maybe he decided to come here to find work?”
“I guess. I wonder what Clover’s gonna do?”
“Kill him, probably,” Dixie said, “I just hope this doesn’t ruin our chances of getting our monkeys.”
***
After a long walk, they arrived at the administration district, which, disappointingly, looked like a nondescript office park in New Jersey. Sharif led them to a building near the center of the park with a sign out front reading “Administration”. As they approached the door, they could see windows with crooked and damaged blinds on either side. Through the blinds, they could see monkeys working away at computers. Dixie and Johnny smiled excitedly. These monkeys could type!
They entered the building and followed signs for “Office of the Ruler”, which they assumed was Meredith. When they entered the office, a middle-aged monkey at the front desk looked up, bored.
“We’re here to see Meredith,” Johnny said. The receptionist sighed.
“No, we don’t have an appointment,” Johnny replied. The receptionist began flipping through a datebook on the desk. Each date on the following several pages was completely filled with writing. Dixie looked over the desk, then at Johnny.
“Oh, no. No way. We’re not hanging around here to wait for an appointment to open up.” She turned to the receptionist. “Listen, lady, we’re wealthy VIPs, and we’re here to do a deal with Meredith. This is going to be a huge deal that’ll change the financial status of this island, so you’re going to let us speak to her now!” She pounded the edge of the desk for emphasis, but the receptionist was unphased.
“What do you mean she’s not even here?” Johnny demanded. “Where the hell is she?” At this point, Clover and Sharif started trying gently to get Dixie and Johnny to leave the office.
“Don’t drag me out of here!” shouted Johnny. “I don’t care if she called security!”
“She’s gonna need security from us!” screamed Dixie as Sharif pulled her back out into the hallway and ushered her toward the door. She and Johnny struggled valiantly but were no match for orangutan strength.
Once outside, Clover and Sharif stood, blocking the door to the administration building to keep Dixie and Johnny from trying to get back in. Once they’d settled down a bit, Sharif explained something to Johnny.
“Your ex-girlfriend?” Johnny asked. “Why would she help you help us if she’s your ex-girlfriend?” Sharif looked a little sad.
“Oh, well, listen, man, if she’s not into dudes, she’s not into dudes. That’s not a reflection on you. And I’m glad you two have been able to stay friends. Ok, take us to her, and let’s try this.”
They started walking again, away from the office park Citadel and toward a neighborhood perched high up on a hill.
“So we’re going to infiltrate Meredith’s house?” Dixie asked.
“Yeah, apparently Sharif’s ex works in the kitchen there. He says she’ll let us in, and we can talk to Meredith.”
“How does he know Meredith is there?”
“He says if she’s not at the office, she’s at home. She doesn’t actually like the touristy parts of the island.”
“I don’t blame her,” Dixie said, “How many grubby kids and annoying, camera-wielding parents can you take before you go on a murder spree?”
***
Before long, they reached a tropical mansion that was perched on the highest peak on Monkey Pirate Island. From a small deck at the top of the house, you would have a full view of the island. The grounds were walled off, and they approached a gatehouse where a monkey in a military-style cap manned the booth. He leaned out and recognized Sharif. They fist-bumped, and Sharif explained why they were there. The guard nodded knowingly and opened a small side gate to let them in. Clover, Dixie, and Johnny nodded to the guard as they passed.
Inside, the grounds were impressive. They were lush and meticulously landscaped. The house was large, but its island style made it seem welcoming rather than intimidating.
“I could get used to this,” Johnny whispered. They walked toward the side of the house to what was obviously an entrance designed for employees who worked there. They stopped at the door to the kitchen and looked inside. It was full of monkeys, busily preparing food. They chopped, sliced, and tended to large, simmering pots. Sharif gave a low whistle, and the staff all turned. One of the monkeys nodded, indicated to another monkey to take over for her, and wiped her hands on her apron as she approached. They had a silent discussion for a moment. Sharif’s ex-girlfriend looked nervous but nodded slowly.
“Meredith’s out on the south lawn in the cat castle,” Johnny said. “Lorna will give Sharif directions, but he’s not going to go all the way there with us because he doesn’t want to get her in trouble for letting us in.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Dixie said, “I don’t care if Meredith thinks we broke in here on our own.” Sharif thanked Lorna, planted a kiss on her forehead, just below her white chef’s hat, and left.
“What the hell is the cat castle, anyway?” Dixie asked as they made their way around the back of the house. Sharif turned and looked at them before turning back to the small paved path they were following.
“I guess Meredith really likes cats,” Johnny said, “She has, like, a giant playland type of thing built back there so the cats can run freely and be safe.”
“You know, I’ll never understand cat people,” Dixie said.
“Or cats,” said Johnny. “You can’t tell those fuckers shit.”
Sharif stopped on the path a moment later and waited for them to catch up, then he gestured to Johnny, indicating which way to go. Johnny nodded.
“Ok, we’ll meet you back at the gatehouse, then.” He paused, looking at Clover. “I don’t know, an hour?” Clover and Sharif had some back and forth, then, before Johnny interrupted.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, “If we aren’t out in an hour, you can come in after us.” He sighed, then walked off with Dixie in the direction Sharif had indicated.
“Man, Clover is so uptight sometimes,” Dixie said as they walked.
“I know. It’s like having a not-fun Chichay around.”
“Yeah, if Chichay was religious instead of being a cool, semi-retired assassin.”
***
The shifty and eccentric Johnny Go and his beautiful and psychotic sidekick Dixie Doublestacks stood before a large enclosure made of a wooden frame and covered in chicken wire. Inside they could see what appeared to be a playground-style replica of the house just behind them. The ground around the house was as well manicured as the actual lawn and included several sets of human-sized lawn furniture. It took a moment to notice, but once they did, Dixie and Johnny realized that the place was crawling with cats.
They could hear someone talking and laughing softly on the far side of the enclosure, so they opened the gate and let themselves inside. Heading toward the voice, Dixie called out, “Meredith? Is that you?”
“Yes, over here,” the voice replied. “Who’s here?” Dixie and Johnny spotted her then. She sat on a picnic blanket on the soft grass, her dark red hair shining in the midday sun. She was surrounded by cats of all sizes and colors, one of which was perched on her shoulder. She looked up at them as they approached.
“I wasn’t expecting any visitors today. How did you get in here?”
“Um,” said Dixie, thinking fast, “The receptionist at your office told us to come and see you here since our request is urgent. She called ahead, and the guy at the gate let us in.” Meredith frowned when she heard this.
“Liesel knows better than to send anyone here. She knows that I only see visitors in my office if they have an appointment. I’m going to have to have a word with her.” She picked up a cat sitting on her lap and addressed it. “Aren’t I? I’m going to have to talk with Liesel because this is a breach of security that just cannot be tolerated.”
“Um,” said Dixie.
“Well, in the meantime, since you’re here, you might as well tell me what you came for. You said it was important?”
***
An hour later, Dixie, Johnny, Clover, and Sharif stood in the Monkey Pirate Island recruitment office. This was the office that handled all job placement opportunities for island residents. This included occasionally acting as an agency for placement with jobs off the island. A monkey behind the desk handed Johnny a typed sheet of paper that he and Dixie looked over.
Wanted: Typists
Shazbot Industries has multiple openings for typists on a long-term project at their Bolivian location.
Previous office experience is preferred but not required. Must type 40+ words per minute to be considered.
Transportation and accommodation provided. Competitive salary and benefits. Relaxed atmosphere. Minimum one year commitment required.
Those interested should report to the Monkey Pirate Island Recruitment Center to apply in person. Transportation for this project leaves Friday at 3:00 from the west side port.
Dixie and Johnny nodded, then handed the flyer back to the monkey at the desk.
“Looks good to me,” Johnny told her.
“So you post that for us, and we just wait for the employees to show up at the boat on Friday?” Dixie asked. The monkey nodded.
“Apparently, ever since the uprising, there’s been a surge of monkeys applying to jobs off the island, so she thinks we’ll get a lot of applicants.”
“Hm,” said Dixie, “Looks like waiting for the monkeys to come to us is finally working out.”
***
That Friday, Dixie and Johnny sat on the deck of the yacht with a stack of signed employment contracts, and the hold filled with over three hundred administratively minded monkeys. They watched as Claudius, Gertrude, Clover, and Sharif loaded stacks of provisions onto the boat. Dixie and Johnny had several newly acquired cases of rum between them and so were unconcerned about any other food or drinks that might be needed; however, Claudius was proving to be a very adept project manager.
When the last of the supplies were on board, Gertrude and Claudius headed down below decks to meet with their newly formed team. Sharif stepped onto the deck and looked at Johnny, who then got up and looked over the railing to the dock below, where Clover stood, watching.
“So he’s not coming?” Johnny asked Sharif over his shoulder. Dixie got up and stood beside Johnny. “Well, he did seem pretty pissed when he spotted his brother here, so I guess it makes sense.”
“Well, Sharif,” Dixie said, turning to the orangutan who stood on the deck behind her, holding his fez in his hands, “If you’re willing to take Clover’s place, we’re more than happy to have you onboard.” Sharif smiled and nodded, then pointed toward the helm.
“Oh yeah, sure thing, man,” Johnny said. “Safety first and all that. If you need us, we’ll be right here on the deck.” Sharif lumbered away. Johnny turned back to say goodbye to Clover but found the dock empty.
***
That evening, the DayDrunk Believer pulled slowly out of port. The sun was setting and casting a brilliant array of colors onto the sky, the water, and the island itself. As they cruised away, they passed the tourist areas with their large resorts and throngs of families plaguing the private beaches. Beyond that, they could see the wealthy area of town, high in the hills, with Meredith’s mansion at the very top.
They hugged the coastline for a while, and the tourist families on the beach stopped to wave at the yacht as it passed. Dixie and Johnny shuddered at the thought of being trapped on an island with that many families, but since they were escaping, they waved back in between sips of rum.
As the yacht rounded the island’s far side, the view changed. They were now seeing where the bulk of the monkey population lived. Small huts and shacks clung to the hillside. Clotheslines and extension cords connected the various dwellings. The setting sun glared off of the tin roofs. Very few of the buildings looked permanent.
The yacht turned and finally started heading away from the island. The hillside neighborhood receded in the distance. Dixie and Johnny were about to step away from the railing and return to their deck chairs when a large explosion erupted halfway up the hillside. A ball of flame in reds, oranges, and golds rose above the shacks, mimicking the sunset.
Dixie and Johnny heard a long, low whistle from the yacht's helm. When they turned and looked up, Sharif stood on the uppermost deck, a smirk on his face and his arm raised in a salute.
Monkeys Collected: 307
