VII: Monkey and the Bandits
“Eastbound and down! Loaded up with monkeys! Oh, we gonna do what they say can’t be done! We’ve got a long way to go, and a thousand years to get there! I’m east bound, just watch ol’ Hamlet run!”
The large cattle truck rolled down I-20 through central Louisiana. The shifty and eccentric Johnny Go and his beautiful and psychotic sidekick Dixie Doublestacks sat in the cab of the truck, singing loudly and drinking from a case of Schlitz at their feet. Sharif, their new orangutan chauffeur, was at the wheel. They towed the large trailer, which was normally used for transporting cattle or pigs, toward the Brooklyn Heights Ranch outside of Dallas. It was full to the rafters with monkeys.
Dixie, Johnny, and Sharif had just returned from Meredith’s Monkey Pirate Island, where Dixie and Johnny had succeeded in hiring over three hundred monkeys for their project. The project, of course was to prove that a thousand monkeys, at a thousand typewriters, could write Hamlet in a thousand years.
Ever since Dixie and Johnny had learned that their antics in outer space had destroyed the circular and infinite nature of time and set the universe on a thousand year countdown to nothingness, they’d been consumed with one thing, and one thing only: Proving that Shakespeare was a hack.
“Ok, so the plan,” Johnny said, tossing his empty beer can out the window of the truck, “is to drop these monkeys off at the ranch and head out again for more.”
“Right,” said Dixie, “Do we have a plan for where we’re gonna get more?”
“No,” said Johnny, cracking another beer, “but we’re on a roll now, so I’m pretty sure we’ll have a plan in no time.”
“Works for me,” Dixie replied, putting her feet up on the dashboard. Beside her, Sharif kept his eyes on the road, but communicated silently to Johnny.
“Extend the truck rental?” Johnny asked, confused.
“Oh,” said Dixie. Johnny turned to look at Sharif.
“Sharif, there’s something I need to confess.” The orangutan took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Johnny, so Johnny continued. “We didn’t rent this truck. Me and Dix stole it.” Sharif was still for a moment. Then his face broke into a wide grin and he threw his head back into the orangutan equivalent of a howl of laughter. Dixie and Johnny joined in as he floored the accelerator and they sped off toward Texas.
***
Early the next morning, the monkey cattle truck made the somewhat precarious turn from the quiet country road into the entrance of the Brooklyn Heights Ranch and rolled slowly down the driveway. It drew to a halt just past the ranch house, in a large gravel area in front of one of several buildings on the property. Johnny reached over and pulled the cord, sending a blast of the truck’s horn out over the quiet ranch.
As Dixie and Johnny climbed out of the cab, the back door to the ranch house opened and a sleepy looking Chichay Milano, clad in a kimono, walked out, followed by an even sleepier Sweaty Mulligan, wearing his customary fatigues, plus some fuzzy monster slippers to keep the early autumn chill off of his feet. A moment later, Rex Ponticello also exited the ranch house through the back door, also wearing a kimono. He didn’t look like he’d been to sleep yet.
From the other direction, far out toward the back of the property, the two ranch hands, Johnson Troubadour and his brother, Wang Chung, appeared through the back door of the small cabin they shared. They were early risers. They smiled in the morning light and waved at Dixie and Johnny, then made their way across the lawn.
A moment later, the group was assembled in the center of the lawn. Various squeals and screeches could be heard from the truck. Johnny nodded.
“What’s up, corn holders?” he asked.
“We could ask you the very same thing,” Chichay said, eyeing the truck. “Looks like you guys have been busy.”
“We’re happy to report that we have hired a significant number of monkeys for our project. That’s right, Chichay. We hired them. They have contracts and everything.” Dixie said. She turned to Johnson and Wang Chung. “We need you two to get this trailer over to the monkey barn and stash these shits inside. There’s one guy in there, Claudius, he’s like our foreman. Just tell him what to do and he should be able to help keep them all in line.” As she spoke, the driver’s side door of the truck opened and Sharif climbed slowly down from the cab and lumbered over to the group.
“Uh, who is that?” Sweaty asked.
“Oh, this is Sharif,” Johnny said as Sharif stood next to him and nodded solemnly toward the group, the tassel of his fez swinging as he did. Johnny clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s Clover’s cousin.”
“Clover’s cousin?” Sweaty asked.
“Sharif was working on Monkey Pirate Island. Clover stayed behind to track down and honor kill his brother on accounta what happened with Doris, so Sharif offered to fill in for him,” replied Dixie, matter of factly.
“What happened to Doris?” Chichay asked.
“She cheated on Clover with his brother, so he had to kill her,” said Johnny. “Now don’t go repeating that. I don’t want people thinking I’m a gossip.”
“That’s horrible!” Chichay exclaimed. “He’s a monster! Why would he do that?”
“It’s not his fault, Chichay,” Johnny said, “Those are the laws that he lives by.”
“What?!”
“No, I’ve heard that, too,” Rex chimed in, “Honor killings are totally a thing in certain parts of the world.”
“Chichay, I don’t know why you’re outraged. You’re a professional assassin,” Dixie pointed out.
“Yeah, but-” Chichay started, but Dixie interrupted.
“Anyway, I’m going in to rest up. Johnny and I are heading out tomorrow on another monkey run.” With that, she headed toward the ranch house, leaving the rest of the group standing on the lawn. Johnny looked at Sharif.
“Will you drive the truck over to that barn,” he pointed, “and give these guys a hand getting all the monkeys in there?” Sharif nodded, and headed back toward the truck. Johnny called after him. “When you’re done, head into the house. You can use the guest bedroom.”
The Troubadour brothers started walking toward the monkey habitat barn, and Johnny turned to the others.
“You guys need Sharif, or can Dix and I take him on our monkey run?”
“Uh, no,” Sweaty said. “He’s all yours.”
“Rex?”
“Nah, I’m good with my own driving.”
“Great,” said Johnny, pushing past them and walking toward the house. “Anything to eat in there?”
The others stood on the lawn for a minute before following Johnny up to the house. They spoke softly as they did.
“How many monkeys do you think they have in there?” Sweaty asked.
“It sounded like a lot,” replied Chichay.
“What’ve we been feedin’ those monkeys, anyway?” Rex asked.
“I have no idea,” said Sweaty, “I just let the Troubs handle it like I do every other thing about this ranch. They seem to do all right.”
“Well, as long as they stay in the barn and don’t get into the house again,” Chichay said, stifling a yawn as she pulled open the back door.”
***
The next morning, Dixie and Johnny stood in the middle of the kitchen sharing a plate of breakfast sausages while a grease fire raged on the stove. They were dressed in their truck driving outfits, which consisted of cut off jeans, massive belt buckles, and trucker hats. Dixie’s hat advertised that she loved “Butt Drugs” and Johnny’s had informed everyone that it was his “Drinking Hat”. On the table they had filled a bowl with maple syrup and bourbon, and were dunking each sausage in before eating. They were oblivious to the shrieking of the smoke detector.
A moment later, a frantic Chichay Milano rushed into the kitchen. Seeing the fire, she reached for the fire extinguisher near the kitchen doorway. She popped the pin, aimed, and within moments had the fire out. Setting the fire extinguisher down, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then turned to Dixie and Johnny.
“I can’t believe you two were just standing here snacking while a fucking fire was blazing on the stove.”
“It was a grease fire, Chich,” Johnny said, reaching for the bourbon bottle and taking a long swig. “Safest thing to do is just let them shits burn out on their own.”
“That’s… not at all true,” Chichay muttered, heading toward the kitchen door. She paused there and turned. “What time are you guys leaving on your little adventure?”
“Soon’s Sharif is up,” Dixie said with her mouth full.
“He’s been up. He’s out back helping the Troubadours with the cattle.” Chichay left the kitching, walking toward the stairs. She called over her shoulder as she went. “I have to get ready to go to the restaurant. Try not to burn the house down for a few minutes, ok?” Dixie and Johnny looked at each other in surprise, then, grabbing their bourbon bottle, headed out the back door.
***
Dixie and Johnny arrived at the ranch house’s lower pasture in time to see the Troubadour brothers, along with Sharif, ride up on horseback. Both Dixie and Johnny were more surprised by the fact that the ranch had horses than they were by the fact that Sharif was able to ride. He looked at home in the saddle, even if his fez seemed out of place. The Troubadour brothers looked pleased, and Johnson smiled and waved at them as they approached.
“Miss Dixie, Mr. Johnny! Mornin’!” he called as he reined his horse in and stopped at the fence. “We just brought the younguns to the upper field for the day. Sharif here was quite the help in keeping ‘em in line.” Johnson dismounted and tied the horse to the fence. Wang Chung arrived and did the same.
“We weren’t sure about Sharif’s riding skills, but he’s as natural as you or me.” He turned and smiled at Sharif, who had just come to a stop and dismounted, as well.
“Sharif told us that he learned to ride a horse back at his madrasa.”
“Is that right?” Johnny asked, taking another drink.
“Yessir,” said Johnson. “We’re awful happy to have him on board.”
“Yeah, great, but don’t get used to it,” Dixie said, “We need Sharif to come with us when we go collect some more monkeys.” Sharif nodded. He handed the reins to Wang Chung and climbed over to Dixie and Johnny’s side of the fence.
“We shouldn’t be more than a few days, and then he can come back and play cowboy with you two,” Johnny said. He was about to turn and walk back to the ranch house when he stopped. “Wait a minute. You guys can understand Sharif?”
“Why, yessir,” said Wang Chung, “It was the damndest thing, but as we were driving the cattle toward the upper pasture, we were just riding quietly along and all of a sudden we could hear Sharif talking!”
“Except it’s not like talking you can hear out loud,” Johnson said, “It’s more like it’s talking that’s already inside your brain. You know?”
“Yeah, I know,” said Johnny. He turned and started toward the house, “I know all about it.” Dixie and Sharif followed, a few steps behind Johnny.
“So, what, I’m the only person who can’t understand Sharif?” Dixie said as they walked. “That’s some Grade A applesauce bullshit!” Johnny looked back over his shoulder at Sharif, then at Dixie.
“Well, for what it’s worth, Dix, Sharif feels bad about it. He said he’ll try to think more clearly so that you can hear him better.” Johnny continued on to the house. Dixie turned to Sharif as they followed Johnny.
“Hey, thanks pal!” she said. “I think I’m gonna really like working with you.”
***
That afternoon, Dixie and Johnny were once again in the cab of the truck, with Sharif at the wheel. They were stopped along the side of the road a few hours from the ranch house. Johnny Go looked across an empty field through a pair of binoculars. Beside him, Dixie drank from a can of beer.
“I see ‘em,” said Johnny. “Looks like there are a couple of enclosures behind the house.”
“Do you think people live in the house? Or monkeys?” Dixie asked.
“People, I think.”
“I’m not sure how we’re going to pull the truck up to the enclosure and grab the monkeys without the people in the house seeing us, then,” said Dixie. Johnny lowered the binoculars and looked past her to Sharif.
“I didn’t see an access road,” Johnny said, handing the binoculars to Sharif, “But you can take a look.” Sharif took the binoculars and looked intently out the window, scanning slowly side to side. Suddenly he stopped. He handed the binoculars to Dixie and quickly started the engine of the truck.
“You saw a road?” Johnny asked, as Sharif pulled out onto the road.
“Do you know how to get to it? Dixie asked. Sharif nodded. They headed down the road a ways before turning off into what appeared to be a small trailer park. Dixie and Johnny sat, watching out the window, as Sharif slowly and methodically made his way through the small dirt streets, getting closer and closer to the road that backed up to the monkey sanctuary. He made one final turn, drove a few hundred feet down the road, and came to a stop, clapping his hands and pointing out the window.
Sure enough, they were on a small side street with run down trailers on one side, and overgrown brush on the other. A rusty chain link fence ran along the length of the property that bordered this road. Sharif had stopped right in front of the gate, which looked like it hadn’t been opened in years.
“I’ll be damned,” Johnny said as he looked through the brush. The monkey enclosures could be seen more clearly from there.
“This actually looks like a lot of monkeys,” Dixie said.
“Yeah, and from here you can’t even see the house.” They watched in silence for a few minutes. They could see the monkeys in the two rear enclosures climbing and fighting. A few were asleep in some hammocks that had been strung between the trees.
“So what do we do? Back the truck through the gate and grab the ones in the back? I have my pearl handled bolt cutters,” Dixie said.
“Yeah, I think that should work. We won’t be able to get all of them, but we can get enough.” Johnny paused and looked at Sharif. “Well yeah, you stay in the truck and be ready. If we see any movement from the house, we’ll give you a signal and you can get us out of here.” He paused again, listening.
“I know it’s risky, and I know we won’t get that many monkeys, but it’s more than we have.
“Well, do you have a better suggestion?” Johnny demanded. Then he sat and listened while Sharif gestured with his hands for a few moments. Johnny nodded.
“Ok fine. That’s a better plan.”
“What is?” asked Dixie. She had no idea what was going on, so she cracked another beer.
“Sharif thinks we should leave the truck here and just open the gate, then let him go in and lead the monkeys back here. He says he can tell them our proposal and how much we’re paying, and that they’ll probably all agree to come with us. He also figures he can get to the monkeys closest to the house because anyone in there is less likely to notice a monkey unlocking the enclosures than two humans, and he’s probably right about that.”
“Damn,” Dixie said, turning to Sharif, “That’s a great plan.” The orangutan nodded, then started to open the door to the cab. Johnny did the same while turning to Dixie.
“Ok, grab your bolt cutters, let’s get this fence open. I’ll get in the driver’s seat and you wait at the back of the trailer. When Sharif gets back with the monkeys, he’s gonna jump in the trailer with them. You close ‘em in, run up here and we’ll take off.”
“That works for me,” Dixie said, jumping out of the cab and reaching behind the seat for a comically large set of bolt cutters. She got to work hacking the fence apart, skipping the rusted gate entirely. When she’d made it halfway through the wire, she and Johnny worked to bend the corner of the fence up, leaving a space for Sharif to enter the monkey sanctuary. He had to stoop to do so, but the rest of the monkeys should fit with no problem.
Sharif paused on the other side of the fence. He reached up, removed his fez and handed it to Johnny, who nodded.
“Good call,” he said as Sharif started down the overgrown path leading to the enclosures. “Probably aren’t any monkeys wearing hats in there.”
“Isn’t that weird?” Dixie said as Johnny climbed into the driver’s seat. “Why don’t more monkeys wear hats? Other than the ones at Monkey Pirate Island, they never wear hats.”
“Yeah, it seems like a real missed opportunity,” Johnny said, closing the door. Dixie headed to the back of the trailer, opened the doors, and waited.
***
An hour later, the monkey cattle truck careened through the trailer park, a cloud of dust billowing in its wake. As Johnny pushed the engine as much as he dared, Dixie struggled to pull the door closed. The sound of gunshots could be heard in the distance, as well as a riot of screeching monkeys from the trailer behind them. A siren rose in the distance.
Johnny rounded a turn, taking it too quickly for the large truck. He maintained control, but took out a mailbox and a small child’s tricycle in the process. Up ahead, he could see the intersection where the trailer park’s dirt road ended at the main, paved road. He drove faster, hoping that there would be no oncoming cars when he reached the main road, because he didn’t have time to slow down.
They were in luck. Johnny reached the intersection just as there was a lull in the traffic. Using all his strength, he heaved the steering wheel to the right. The truck crossed all three lanes and tipped precariously to one side, but managed to stay upright. Before he even corrected course, he’d gunned the engine again. They were far away from the monkey sanctuary by the time the police arrived.
Back at the ranch…
Rex Ponticello sat on the back porch, carefully mending his nun’s habit. He was surprised that an outfit he only wore occasionally, and that didn’t reach down beyond his chest, could wear out, but that’s what running from the mall cops got you. He hummed softly to himself as he sewed, enjoying the meditative motion of the needle moving in and out through the fabric. He was looking forward to his evening’s activities.
As he brought the needle and thread through the material, securing the hem and hiding the unsightly frayed edge, he suddenly became aware of a loud motor sound in the distance, like a large truck grinding its gears. It got louder and louder until finally Rex stood up and walked to the edge of the porch to see what he could see.
Just as he peered around the side of the ranch house, the large cattle truck roared up the street, then slammed on the brakes as it approached the ranch’s driveway, coming almost to a stop before turning as sharply as it could, which wasn’t very sharply at all. The truck took out the mailbox and part of the front fence, then left deep tire tracks on the lawn as it headed back to the gravel driveway.
Rex sighed. Chichay was going to be pissed about the lawn. Sending gravel up into the air, the truck hurtled down the driveway before skidding to a stop in front of the monkey habitat barn. Johnny Go jumped from the driver’s seat, and Rex nodded, his suspicions confirmed. He assumed that Sharif was a much better driver than that. Dixie stumbled from the passenger side, clearly very drunk, and the two of them approached the back doors of the trailer. Where was Sharif, anyway? Rex wondered.
A moment later, this question was answered when Johnny cracked the back door just enough to let the large orangutan out, then closed it again quickly. Rex watched as, at this point, Sharif took over, skillfully turning the truck so that the rear of the trailer backed up to the doors of the monkey barn. As he did this, Dixie and Johnny headed to the house.
“How’s it hangin’, Hell to Be Around?” Johnny called as he approached. He crossed the porch and high fived Rex. He looked at the nun’s habit Rex was still holding. “Big plans for this evening, I see?”
“You know it, man,” Rex said. “Just fixing the old girl up. Musta worn out the seams when I was crawling around on the roof of the Sheffield Mall trying to shake the rentals.”
“Rex, I’m really glad to see you’ve found an outlet for your tendencies,” Dixie said as she walked up the porch steps.
“So you guys flew in here like your asses were on fire,” Rex said, “You get anything?”
“We got about two hundred monkeys from a sanctuary an hour northwest of here. Had a little shooting, so we needed to get back here quick.”
“So you stole ‘em?”
“Not really,” Dixie said, “Sharif went in and offered ‘em jobs with us and they came willingly. We just didn’t clear it with the people who own the place.”
“I’m impressed with you guys,” said Rex, sitting down in a rocking chair. “You’re so legit these days.”
“We really are, aren’t we?” Johnny said, patting himself on the back. “Well anyway, we have time for a few cold ones before we head back out. You want a drink, Rex?”
“Sure,” Rex said, picking up his sewing again, “Bring me whatever you guys are having.”
“Three Pig Pens it is, then!”
***
Later that afternoon, Dixie and Johnny were standing by the cattle truck with buckets of paint and brushes. They knew that they needed to disguise the truck if they were going to head out for another monkey run. Johnny was painting what looked like a speedboat on the trailer, whild Dixie worked on painting a fishing trawler on the truck cab. They assumed that this would make the other motorists believe that they were boats driving down the highway.
A commotion drew their attention to the monkey habitat barn, and the two put their brushes down to go investigate. When they got to the door, Sharif, Johnson, and Wang Chung stood with their backs to it, out of breath.
“What’s going on?” Dixie asked.
“Miss, I’m glad you’re here,” Johnson said, “Y’all have too many monkeys in there. There isn’t enough space, and the new ones aren’t getting on with the last group you brought in.”
“And?” Johnny asked.
“Well, y’all are planning on getting even more, right” Wang Chung asked.
“Do you see a thousand monkeys in there, Wang Chung?” asked Dixie.
“We’re gonna need to expand. Maybe we quickly build another habitat in the north barn.”
“We could move the cars out.” Johnson added. Sharif nodded.
“Ok, just do whatever,” Dixie said, turning back to the truck. “We’re heading out as soon as the paint dries, so get ready to go, Sharif.” Sharif gestured at the barn and shook his head.
“Sharif thinks they can get it built faster if he says and helps,” Johnny said. Dixie shrugged.
“Sure, do whatever. Johnny and I are totally self-sufficient anyway,” she said as she picked up her brush. “We don’t need a driver.”
Two hours later…
The truck and cattle trailer were overturned in a ditch on the side of a busy highway. The trailer was badly damaged, with the metal sides mangled from the impact. The wheels of the truck were spinning wildly, and a small fire could be seen creeping toward the gas tank.
A short distance from the crash, Dixie and Johnny could be seen crossing the field and fleeing the scene.
Back at the ranch…
Inside the barn, the monkeys were all milling about, divided into obvious cliques. In one corner, a group was playing around with some ranch equipment that they’d obviously stolen from the Troubadour brothers, including cowboy hats and lengths of rope. In another, a group of sportier monkeys threw a football back and forth. Near them was a group of very nerdy looking monkeys who were quietly having a very intellectual discussion, you could just tell. Another group still was the beautiful monkeys, who took up as much space as possible in the middle of the barn, preening and grooming one another.
Amidst this chaos, two monkeys walked through the barn on their way to the loft area. They were young and attractive, although one looked angry and the other looked like she was trying too hard to be sweet.
“Come on, Kat!” the sweet monkey wailed. “Dad won’t let me go to the party unless you go, too!”
“First of all, we’re stuck in this barn, so it’s not like anyone’s going to be able to avoid this stupid party. Second of all, you need to stop doing what all the other monkeys are doing! Maybe try being your own primate for once, Bianca!” As she said this, Bianca whirled around and faced her sister angrily.
“Kat! My friends expect me to be there!” Kat continued to the loft steps without responding. Bianca paused at the bottom, then rushed up after her. “You’re ruining my life! Because you won’t be normal, I can’t be normal!” They reached a corner of the loft, piled high with hay. Kat flopped down, while Bianca stayed standing over her. Kat sighed.
“Fine. I’ll go to the goddamn party.”
Meanwhile...
Dixie and Johnny crouched next to a large, white van in the parking lot of a small, white chapel. The sign outside indicated that it was a baptist church. Underneath the main sign, all of the other words were in Korean, as were the words on the van. Johnny unwound a wire coat hanger and passed it to Dixie, who stood up and quickly used it to pop the lock on the driver’s side door.
Within moments, she’d opened the door, yanked the wires out from under the dashboard, and sparked the engine to life. She motioned to Johnny, climbed into the driver’s seat, then across to the passenger seat. Johnny followed her and took the wheel. They peeled out of the parking lot just as the church service ended and worshippers exited the building, blinking in the late afternoon sun.
Back at the ranch…
Inside the barn, the party was in full swing, with all of the disparate cliques now coming together for the sake of music, dancing, and illicit booze. Earlier in the day, a group of monkeys had broken out of the barn to explore the ranch grounds. They’d come across a large stash of homemade moonshine that Dixie and Johnny kept in a root cellar beneath another building, and brought it back with them.
The center of the barn was entirely taken up by monkeys dancing to whatever tunes came on to the old radio that sat in one corner. Bottles of moonshine were passed around, and several monkeys had broken off into couples. Bianca danced timidly with a friend, keeping her eye out for a boy monkey that she was hoping to run into. Kat scowled in the corner. She was about to leave when a stereotypically good looking monkey named Joey approached.
“Never thought I’d see you here,” he said, sidling up to her. She shifted away from him before replying.
“Hey,” she said, pointing to his forehead, “I think your hairline is receding.” Joey looked panicked and frantically began touching the top of his head as Kat walked away. He called after her.
“Where ya goin’?”
“Away from you.”
“Is your sister here?” Kat turned on him, her teeth bared.
“Stay away from my sister!” Kat turned again and was about to leave when a fight started on the other side of the room. A large, athletic chimp and a smaller bonobo squared off. What the bonobo lacked in size, it made up for in ferocity. Kat was about to leave again when Bianca walked up.
“Just who I was looking for,” said Joey with a smile. Bianca blushed. Joey put his arm around Bianca’s shoulder and walked with her to the other side of the room.
Fuming, Kat reached out and grabbed a bottle of moonshine from a passing monkey. He was about to forcefully take it back from her when he caught sight of her expression and slunk away. As Kat lifted the bottle to her lips to drink, a tall, handsome monkey named Patrick approached.
“What are you doing?” he asked. She glared at him.
“Getting trashed. It’s a party, right?” She tipped the bottle her lips and drank, then coughed as the ‘shine burned her throat. Before Patrick could do anything, she turned on her heel and crossed the room.
***
Patrick followed Kat around the party, trying to talk to her. Every time he did, she shoved him away and drank more of the moonshine until finally, very drunk, she ended up dancing on a large crate in the middle of the barn. Hypnotize was playing loudly on the radio, and the other monkeys crowded around, screeching and cheering.
Midway through the dance, Kat passed out, collapsing into Patrick’s arms. He carried her to the far side of the barn.
Meanwhile…
Dixie and Johnny sat in the church van in a strip mall parking lot, eating Wataburger and drinking bottles of Hurricane. They had their eyes on a storefront toward the end of the row that specialized in the training and placement of service animals. The sign on the front announced their services:
Seeing Eye Dogs
Emotional Support Animal Licensing
Helper Monkeys
They watched as the last employee left and locked up. When the man had driven away, Johnny started the engine of the church van and they drove around to the rear of the strip mall, stopping behind the gray metal rear door of the service animal agency. A moment later, Dixie and Johnny jumped out of the church van, burger wrappers and bottles flying in their wake, and headed to the door.
Dixie got to work with her pearl handled lock picking kit and had the door open within minutes. They entered without caution. They entered like they owned the place, and seemed unconcerned when the security alarm began blasting loudly.
The security alarm set off the monkeys, who began shrieking and rattling their cages. Dixie and Johnny followed the sounds from the monkeys and located them in a large side room, off of the main office area. They were housed in cages, stacked three high. There were twenty. They were all much smaller than most of the other monkeys they’d acquired so far.
“These ones are tiny,” Dixie said, inspecting the monkeys, “Do you think they’ll be able to type?”
“They all have fingers, so I think they’ll be ok, We can always look for littler typewriters if we have to,” said Johnny.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that,” Dixie said, “Ok, let’s take ‘em.” They began to open the cages. Most of the monkeys hopped out and wandered around the floor of the room. Johnny stood by the door and addressed the group.
“Listen up, monkeys,” he shouted over the security alarm, “My name is Johnny Go and this is my associate Dixie Doublestacks and we’re here today to make you an offer that you can’t refuse! Instead of spending the rest of your days slaving away for some invalids in exchange only for food and a place to live, we’re offering you a contract, a year to start with negotiable renewals, to work in our state of the art typing center in Bolivia. Not only will you receive food and housing, you’ll also be paid an hourly wage, and you won’t be expected to wipe anyone’s ass.”
“Except your own,” Dixie added, opening the final cage.
“If these terms are acceptable to you, I invite you to follow me and my partner to our van and we’ll take you to our staging area. You gotta be quick, though, because the cops are probably on the way.” Johnny turned and opened the door to the monkey room and headed down the hallway toward the rear door. Dixie followed.
When they reached the rear door, Johnny opened it and walked toward the van, opening the side door. Dixie held the office door open and watched as, one by one, all of the monkeys from the service animal center left their old lives behind in favor of a new adventure.
***
Inside the van, the monkeys all congregated on the rear bench seat and chattered quietly away while Johnny drove and Dixie drew crude pictures on the pages of a bible she found in the glove compartment. Finally, one of the monkeys hopped up from the back and perched himself on Johnny’s shoulder.
“What’s up, little guy?” Johnny asked as the monkey reached over and plucked Johnny’s trucker hat off his head, placing it on his own. “Aw! Dix, look at this! He’s a little trucker!”
“What’s your name, fella?” Dixie slurred. Johnny paused and listened to the monkey for a moment.
“His name is Bo. He used to belong to a long haul trucker!”
“I guess that means you wanna come with us on our next run, huh Bo?” Dixie asked. The monkey nodded enthusiastically. Johnny gave him a high five, cracked a beer, and drove on into the night.
Back at the ranch…
The next morning, Dixie and Johnny sat in the kitchen of the ranch house watching Bo cook breakfast. He was a helper monkey, after all, and Dixie and Johnny were into it. Johnny popped open a champagne bottle as Bo climbed up on the table carrying a pitcher of orange juice. Johnny split the champagne between two enormous beer steins, then motioned for Bo to add the orange juice.
“Just a splash,” he said. Bo nodded, then scampered off the table, leaving the pitcher. He hopped back up on the stove and gave a stir to a pot full of boiling water and hot dogs. Next, he moved over to the counter where he expertly sliced up a honeydew melon and tossed it in a bowl with some prunes.
A short while later, Bo had placed all of the breakfast items, including the pot of water with the hot dogs in it, on the table and taken his place on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny reached a hand into the hot dog pot and fished one out, keeping his mimosa-stein in the other hand. He handed the hot dog up to Bo, then got another for himself. They sat in silence for a while until Chichay entered the kitchen, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. She looked at Bo, and Bo looked at her.
“Oh no!” she said, loudly, “I told you guys, no monkeys in the house!”
“But he’s a helper monkey,” Dixie said.
“I don’t give a shit what he is,” replied Chichay, “You saw what happened the last time some of your monkeys got into the house. We have the county inspection for the new restaurant today and I don’t have time to spend tranqing monkeys as they trash our living room!”
“But look, Chich,” Johnny said, “He’s so cute in his little hat.”
“And he made us breakfast.”
“Just sit down and have some breakfast,” Johnny said, “And you’ll see that Bo has no intention of trashing the living room.” Chichay looked at the table suspiciously.
“What the hell is this stuff?” she asked.
“It’s an American style breakfast,” Johnny replied, “Look, he even made fruit salad.” Johnny pushed the bowl toward Chichay.
“American style? It’s hot dogs floating in water. And no respectable fruit salad has prunes in it. I’ll have some orange juice, though.” Chichay reached for the pitcher. “Is there any coffee?” In a panic, Bo dropped the remaining half of his hot dog onto Johnny Go’s lap and scrambled across the table. In one leap, he made it from the table to the counter and immediately got to work filling the coffee pot with water. In spite of herself, Chichay looked impressed. Dixie noticed.
“Not so worried about him trashing the house anymore, are you?”
***
Inside the monkey barn, a group of boy monkeys, including Patrick, sat on some hay bales stacked along the wall like bleachers. They watched as a group of girl monkeys, including Kat, played a version of soccer in the middle of the barn floor.
“She hates you, dude,” said one of the boys, Cameron.
“She just a little needs time to cool off,” replied Patrick. As he said this, Kat looked over, locked eyes with him, and shook her head. A moment later, she let loose a kick, sending the soccer ball directly at Patrick’s head. He winced.
“Ok,” continued Patrick, “A lot of time.”
***
Dixie, Johnny, and Bo blasted down the interstate. Johnny was at the wheel, a bottle of malt liquor in the cup holder on the dashboard. Dixie and Bo were in the backseat playing the card game Spit.
Without signaling, Johnny turned the van diagonally toward an exit. The screeching of brakes and blaring of car horns could be heard in the background as he rolled down the off ramp.
“Better wrap it up, bitches,” he called over his shoulder, “We have a zoo to liberate!”
Back at the ranch…
The girls soccer game was still going on, and Patrick and Cameron were still sitting there watching. Every time Kat had reason to look up, she shot a death stare at Patrick. He slumped more and more into his seat.
“Give it up, man,” said Cameron. “She hates you.” Patrick suddenly sat up and looked at Cameron.
“I have an idea,” he said. Before Cameron could say anything, he jumped down off the hay bale bleachers and ran across the floor of the barn. Cameron shrugged and went back to watching the girl monkeys.
A short while later, the opening strains of Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You blasted out across the barn. All motion stopped as every monkey in the barn turned and looked for the source of the music. Finding none, their eyes were drawn to the railing of the hay loft, where Patrick was perched precariously. As the tempo of the song picked up, he began to dance and sing along.
At first, Kat scowled at him, but as the other monkeys began to laugh and cheer for his antics, eventually she did, as well. Patrick danced and cavorted, always looking like he was about to plunge to the barn floor below, but saving himself just in time.
A stern looking monkey came up behind Patrick and reached out to pull him off the railing. He noticed at the last second and jumped away, climbing higher up into the rafters. The crowd cheered again as he dangled, upside down, arms outstretched, for the end of the song.
Kat looked up into Patrick’s eyes as he was hanging from the ceiling, a smile on her face.
“Will you go to prom with me?” Patrick shouted down to her.
“Yes!” she cried. The crowd went wild, and the promposal was born.
***
The church van tore across the pristine, manicured lawn of a mansion, dragging the remnants of a fence and sending tufts of grass into the air. Eventually, the van made it onto the driveway of the property, so the going was smoother, but up ahead, the imposing metal gates were closed. Inside the van, Johnny Go stepped on the gas.
“Bo, tell the group to brace themselves, we’re gonna have to ram the gate!” he shouted over the cacophony of monkey screeches. The rear of the van held fifteen monkeys that had just been liberated from a rich guy’s house. In the passenger seat, Dixie buckled her seatbelt and screwed the top onto the bottle of bourbon she’d been drinking. She tucked it carefully between her legs.
“Gotta protect my precious cargo,” she said to Johnny over the noise. “It’s been ages since I had a bourbon that good. Fucking Kentucky, man.”
“As soon as we’re back on the main road, I want a drink,” Johnny said. They were rapidly approaching the gate. “Hold on, everyone!”
With a loud crash, the van collided with the gate. One side flew open, slamming into the small guard booth. The other side held fast, causing the van to veer sideways and spin, rear first, out into the road. Johnny kept his foot on the gas and for an instant it looked like the van was going to drive back down the driveway toward the mansion, but an instant later he cranked the wheel again, sending them onto the road. They were home free.
Dixie cracked the bourbon again and passed the bottle to Johnny.
***
Dixie and Johnny sat in the front of the church van eating a pizza that was perched on the dashboard, partially blocking Johnny’s view of the road. They were drinking from a six pack on the floor. Behind them, the rest of the van was empty except for Bo, who was asleep in the next row. Dixie and Johnny looked exhausted.
“It’s getting exhausting, all this driving back and forth to the ranch to drop off the monkeys,” Johnny said. “I say for this next run, we stuff the van and keep going. We find any more, we’ll have to steal another truck or something.”
“Yeah, good idea,” Dixie said, yawning with a mouthful of pizza. “We’re getting too far to make it back in the same day, anyway.” As she said this, they passed a sign on the interstate for West Virginia.
An hour later…
Dixie lifted a flap in the side of a run down circus tent and motioned with her hand as a troupe of ten monkeys filed out, following Johnny as he crossed a dark field to where they had parked the church van. Bo was perched happily on Johnny’s shoulder.
When the last monkey was out of the tent, Dixie dropped the canvas of the tent and started after them. She took a small flask out of her back pocket and sipped as she walked.
Back at the ranch…
The next evening, the monkey habitat barn was decorated to the rafters, and the monkeys were dressed in their finest clothes, many of which had been pilfered from the ranch house while the others were out. Music played from the radio again, and a tray of snacks stood on a table along the wall.
The monkeys were having a blast, dancing in pairs or groups. They sang along with the hits coming in over the radio. They had snacks, sipped more stolen moonshine, and got into fights.
Under the twinkling lights, Kat and Patrick danced, entwined in each other’s arms, Kat’s head resting on Patrick’s shoulder. It was monkey prom, and it was perfect.
***
Flames rose high into the air as Dixie and Johnny’s church van flew away from the zoo. The twenty nine monkeys they’d just liberated from the Philadelphia Zoo chattered excitedly with the circus monkeys as Bo handed out copies of everyone’s contracts.
“That was a close one,” Johnny said to Dixie as he drove, “Good thing you had that little pearl handled zippo.”
Back at the ranch...
Chichay Milano and Sweaty Mulligan said goodnight to the Troubadour brothers and left the small cabin. They had joined the Troubadours and Sharif for dinner, and were now headed across the lawn toward the ranch house, arm in arm, enjoying the evening. Sharif had decided to stay behind for a bit to play another round of cards. As Chichay and Sweaty walked, they became aware of a buzz of noise coming from the monkey habitat barn. Without saying a word, they both turned to investigate.
When they arrived at the barn, the music was very loud, and the chattering of monkeys could be heard clearly through the walls of the barn. They approached the window and peered inside.
“What the hell are they doing in there?” Sweaty asked.
“It looks like they’re having prom.”
“Why would the monkeys be having prom?”
“I don’t know, but as long as they’re not doing it in the house, I couldn’t care less.” They watched through the window a moment longer when a commotion in the corner caught their eye. Kat and Patrick were arguing. Tears streamed down Kat’s face as she shook a wad of crumpled up money at Patrick. He looked down at his feet, ashamed.
Kat gave Patrick a powerful slap, then stormed off. Patrick looked stunned for a moment, then followed, calling after her.
“Wow. There’s some serious drama happening at this monkey prom, huh?” Sweaty asked, turning to Chichay.
“Reminds me of my prom.”
“You went to prom?” he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. They turned and started heading toward the house.
“Oh yeah. I was prom queen."
"No way!"
"Uh huh. Wanna know what my coronation song was?”
"What?"
"Sweet Child 'o Mine."
Sweaty Mulligan could barely contain himself.
***
The next day, Dixie and Johnny walked through a long, dark, underground tunnel. Bo was still perched on Johnny’s shoulder, but he occasionally had to duck under the filthy pipes overhead, and dodge the electrical wires haphazardly criss crossing the ceiling. They followed a small man in a blue silk robe.
Eventually they came to a huge underground chamber which had functioned as a transit station in the previous century. The man stopped at the opening and signaled for Dixie and Johnny to pay him. Johnny thrust a stack of bills into his hand. He smiled.
“Enjoy the Ju Mo Market,” he said, before disappearing back into the tunnel. Dixie and Johnny stood at the top of the steps and surveyed the space. Spread out before them was all manner of vendors set up at tables and booths, with all manner of the city’s less desirable folks selling all manner of things, both legal and criminal.
At the far side of the chamber they spotted a stack of cages, each stuffed with several monkeys. In front of the cages was a long wooden table. A man stood at the table wearing a blood soaked apron and holding a comically large butcher knife. He finished wrapping a freshly butchered chunk of monkey meat in brown paper and handed it to a decrepit lady standing before him. She bowed and scurried off.
“The butcher is over there,” Dixie pointed. Johnny nodded. They were about to start down the steps when he stopped suddenly.
“Dix, I’m worried these weirdos are gonna try to steal Bo and eat him.”
“Oh, I don’t think they’ll eat him,” Dixie said, looking up at Bo. “He’s too little. They’re way more likely to use a monkey like him for spells and potions and stuff.” Bo looked terrified and gripped Johnny Go’s hair tightly.
“Go to that knockoff handbag cart there and buy something we can stash him in.” Johnny then addressed Bo, “It’s ok, little trucker. We’ll protect you.” Dixie walked off and returned a moment later with an unimpressive copy of a leather Hermes handbag. She held it open and Bo jumped in. He gave them a quick thumbs up as they closed the bag. Once he was securely inside, Dixie slung the bag over her shoulder and they made their way to the butcher’s booth.
An hour later…
Dixie and Johnny finished loading the thirty monkeys that they’d acquired in the underground market into the church van, which had been stashed in a nearby alley under a tarp. The monkeys already inside had been given strict instructions to not make any noise or call attention to themselves.
As they ushered the monkeys into the van, Johnny snacked on a piece of grilled monkey meat on a stick. Bo glared at him.
“What?” he demanded, “It was already dead. I’d just be dishonoring your relatives if I let their meat go to waste.” Bo crossed his arms angrily over his chest.
“You want to try some?” Johnny asked, waving the stick in front of Bo’s face. The little monkey shrank back in disgust and shook his head. “Ok, but you’re really missing out. Those trolls know a thing or two about barbecue.”
When they had everyone in the van, Dixie and Johnny climbed in the front. Johnny was, once again, at the wheel and piloted the church van through the grimy streets of New York and headed toward home.
Back at the ranch…
The church van rolled slowly down the driveway of the ranch, past the house, heading toward the large barn behind it. Chichay looked up from the magazine she was reading on the porch swing with concern. It wasn’t like Dixie and Johnny to drive this slowly.
She watched as the van rolled off of the gravel driveway, getting slower as it went, and aimed directly at the large oak tree.
“What the hell are they doing?” she wondered out loud. She put her magazine down and hurried off the porch and across the lawn toward the slow moving van. Just as she reached it, it bumped into the oak tree and came to a stop.
Chichay looked in the window to see Johnny Go, fast asleep in the driver’s seat, and a loudly snoring Dixie Doublestacks in the passenger seat beside him. In Johnny’s lap sat a very stressed out looking Bo, still gripping the steering wheel. The back of the van was chock full of sleeping monkeys. Chichay eased the driver’s side door open.
“Hey buddy,” she said softly to Bo. He didn’t react, so she reached in and turned off the engine, then gently began to remove his hands from the wheel. “You did a great job getting these guys back here. You really are a helper.” She lifted Bo up and out of the van and closed the door quietly, leaving Dixie and Johnny asleep in their van full of monkeys.
Chichay took Bo to the house and sat him at the kitchen table while she heated up a frozen burrito for him. He took a few bites, then fell asleep at the table, his head on the plate.
Monkeys Collected: 609
