X: Monkey Lenders in the Temple

“Welcome to Bali, Mr. Welles,” the immigration officer said as he stamped a passport for a Mr. Miguel Welles and handed it across the counter to the shifty and eccentric Johnny Go. At the next booth, his beautiful and psychotic sidekick Dixie Doublestacks was in the process of handing over a passport for one Harlot Sinclair, which the officer glanced at quickly before immediately returning his gaze to Dixie’s cleavage, which was on full display. He reluctantly returned her passport, and she joined Johnny on the other side of the glass wall where the baggage carousel groaned. 
While Dixie and Johnny waited for their bags, their traveling companion, Peter Tork, was being hauled off to secondary inspection for more questioning. Two officers escorted him to a small immigration office. Once inside, one officer placed Tork’s passport on the desk of the supervisor, then left. Tork sat before the desk while the officer clicked away at his computer for a time without looking up. 
“Mr. Tork,” he said, keeping his eyes on the computer, “There seems to be an international alert for a Mr. Peter Tork. Suspected of being abducted and trafficked. Is that you, Mr. Tork?” 
“Uh, no sir,” Tork replied. “I’m just here on a vacation.” 
“Well, I’ll just have to verify your passport details to confirm it isn’t you,” the officer replied. He was about to reach for the passport when Tork grabbed it. In an instant, he was out of the chair and out the door, sprinting down the corridor toward the exit. The officer jumped from his desk and gave chase, calling to other officers along the corridor as he did. All of them reacted too slowly, and before they realized it, Tork had burst through the doors to the baggage claim area. 
He looked wildly around the large hall and soon spotted Dixie and Johnny, who were in the process of fending off a dog that had taken too much of an interest in their bags. 
“GO!!!” he screamed, running toward Dixie and Johnny. They turned and looked up as he approached. “GO!” 
Dixie and Johnny didn’t need to be told a third time. They grabbed their bags, smacking the drug dog in the face as they did so. It yelped and ran the opposite direction, dragging its handler with it. When Tork got to Dixie and Johnny, he reached down and scooped up his own bag, and the three ran toward the exit. As they did so, more security personnel began to swarm from all sides, but couldn’t reach them in time. 
The glass doors to the outside slid open, and Dixie, Johnny, and Tork burst out into the humid Bali morning, scattering the crowd of people waiting. Still running, they headed toward the taxi stand. 
“Taksi!” Dixie screamed at the nearest cab. It was a rusty blue car idling at the end of the line of better looking taxis. The driver was leaning against the side, smoking a cigarette. “Spoir! Masuk! Tip besar!” 
“Uang!” screamed Johnny, to emphasize. The man reacted immediately, rushing to the other side of his car and jumping into the driver’s seat. He started the engine just as the three arrived. They dived into the car, Dixie and Johnny in the backseat and Tork in the front, and before they had closed the doors, the driver pulled quickly away from the curb, clipping the taxi in front of him as he went. 
As they tore down the airport arrivals road, sirens could be heard behind them, along with the shouts of police and immigration officers. But before an official vehicle could give chase, the taxi had left the airport grounds, merging into the chaotic traffic and disappearing. 

***

“Penyelundup?” asked the driver as they cruised along, weaving in an out of traffic. 
“Tidak. Not this time, anyway,” Dixie replied. “Our friend just brought the wrong passport.” 
“I can’t believe you used your real passport, Tork,” Johnny said. 
“What do you mean? I don't have another one. What passports did you use?” he asked, turning around in the front seat to look at them. 
“I used this new one I got,” Johnny said, “Miguel Welles, born in Wisconsin.” 
“I used my Harlot Sinclair passport,” Dixie added, “But the French one. The American Harlot Sinclair got unmasked by the Moidi Tribunal of Justice. Bastards.” 
“Yeah, all of my aliases did. Had to get a bunch of new ones, and honestly I’m having trouble remembering them. I almost told that officer my name was Rex Vulva.” 
“I didn’t know you could get passports with different names,” Tork said, sounding overwhelmed. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” 
“Don’t worry about it, we have a guy for that.” 
“You have a guy for that?” 
“Yeah, Tommy,” Dixie said. 
“If Tommy can’t get it, it can’t get got,” Dixie and Johnny said in unison. They high fived, then turned back to Tork. 
“We’ll call Tommy when we get to our hotel. He can ship it to us before we leave.”
“Start thinking of some names,” Johnny said. “I mean, it sounds like there’s a bulletin out for you or something so you’re gonna need to burn Tork and start living as someone else. Pick a name you like.” 
“Preferably one you don’t have to keep spelling for everyone all the time,” Dixie said, giving Johnny a look. 
“Buongiorno di Pace is a good name!” shouted Johnny. “And it’s only Americans that can’t spell it.” They rode in silence for a moment before Johnny spoke again. 
“Is anyone else hungry?” 
“Starving,” said Tork. 
“I could eat,” added Dixie. 
“Driver,” Johnny said, “uang lebih if you take us to the best tum place.” 
“Tum babi?” the driver asked. 
“Lya,” Dixie replied, “But it has to be terbaik tum.” 
“Lya,” the driver nodded eagerly, changing lanes. 
“How do you both know Indonesian?” Tork asked, curiously. 
“Eh, you know, picked up a little here and there,” Johnny said. 
“We can say a little bit in a lot of languages,” Dixie pointed out. 
“I got Sharif to teach me a bunch of stuff to say before we left. He’s from Indonesia, you know.” 
A short while later they pulled into a small restaurant. It was no more than a hut, with a scattering of mismatched tables and chairs grouped around the gravel yard. The driver stopped the car and the three got out. The driver looked as if he would stay in the car, but Johnny insisted. 
“Come on, beruntung. Lunch is on us.” 

***

They had a leisurely lunch, sampling everything the restaurant had to offer, and more than their share of beer. As they were getting ready to leave, Johnny negotiated buying a case of Bintag from the restaurant and carried it back to the car, placing it in the backseat between him and Dixie. As they climbed back in the car, the driver looked at them awkwardly. 
“Please, sirs,” he said, “Need to agree to fare.” 
“Huh?” 
“Fare. Tourists should agree before taksi ride.” 
“Oh, right,” said Johnny. “Well, how much to drive us to Ubud?” 
“Ubud, sir? Is far. Banyak uang.” Dixie pulled out a wad of U.S. dollars and handed it to the man without counting. It was a lot. 
“That enough?” she asked. The driver looked shocked. 
“Oh yes, yes sirs,” he said, bowing and smiling. 
“Just don’t tell the cops about our friend here,” Johnny said. 
“No sir,” the driver said. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Dixie and Johnny each cracked a beer and they rode in silence for a while before Tork spoke. 
“What made you decide to do this project?” he asked. 
“What project?” Dixie asked, distractedly. 
“Your monkey project.” 
“Shakespeare’s a filthy turtle crotch and he deserves to be put in his place,” Dixie replied, matter of factly. 
“But he’s not going to know when you prove that monkeys could write his work,” Tork said. “So you’re spending all this money just to prove this to yourselves?” 
“I’unno, Tork,” said Johnny, tossing his empty beer bottle out the window, “Money’s no object, and we really, really hate Shakespeare. Sometimes you just gotta do the thing, you know?” 
“Where did you guys get your money, anyway?” 
“Here and there,” Dixie replied, tossing her bottle, as well. 
“Used to be a lot of robbing, but most recently, we sold some tech to the galactic resistance. That’ll keep us afloat for a good long while.” 
“You developed military tech?” 
“No, we stole it from a biker sex gang on the anime planet,” Johnny said. 
“Well, we didn’t actually steal it,” Dixie said. “They gave it to Johnny when he joined the gang.” 
“True. But then I killed a few of ‘em and we ran away.” 
“Then when we ran into Amelia Earhart, she told us that the military would be interested and would pay a lot of money to get their hands on it. We sold it to them, and then worked it out so they keep on paying us a percentage every time they sell one.” 
“Wait, did you say you ran into… huh?” 
“Amelia Earhart. She's this hot half robot chick who’s a pretty big bigshot in the space force,” said Johnny. 
“She… that Amelia Earhart?” 
“Not the lady that invented Canasta,” Johnny said. Tork looked stunned. 
“You’ve... lived quite the life.” 
“Meh.” 

***

An hour later, they entered the town of Ubud and the driver called over his shoulder to Dixie and Johnny, asking where they wanted to go. Dixie was asleep with her face pressed against the window. Johnny was quite drunk, but still awake. Tork was sitting quietly, staring out the front window. 
“Uh…” muttered Johnny, “I’unno where to go… What’s the most expensive?” 
“Apa?” 
“Sebagian besar uang?” Johnny asked. “Take us there.” The driver nodded. He looked uncertain that he was doing the right thing, but he certainly knew the most expensive hotel in the area. 
A short while later they had pulled up to a lavish jungle treehouse hotel. Dixie had woken up by this time and they all climbed out of the car. Tork picked up all three duffle bags, wondering at how heavy Dixie’s was. Dixie headed into the lobby to secure rooms. Tork followed while Johnny approached the driver to give him a tip. 
“Here you go, man,” he said, handing the man another wad of rumpled greenbacks. The man bowed again and thanked him profusely. They shook hands, and Johnny picked up the remains of the case of beer and was about to follow the others into the lobby when the driver motioned to him. 
The man walked to the trunk of the cab and opened it. He leaned in and lifted the mat, reaching into the well where the spare tire should have been. Johnny joined the man and waited while he felt around inside the trunk. A moment later he came up with two large, battered brown bottles. They were each stopped with a cork, which was tied tightly to the bottle with twine. He presented these to Johnny. 
“Arak,” he said, “Like, nonsen. I make from kelapa. Coconut.” 
“Wow,” Johnny said. He was strangely moved by the man’s generosity. He forgot that the generosity likely came from the fact that he’d paid the man the equivalent of three years wages. “Terima kasih. Thank you.” 
Johnny Go bowed, then walked into the hotel’s lobby. 

***

After they had checked into an absurdly lavish room, high up in the trees with a stunning view of the valley, they sat on the deck sipping cocktails that the front desk had sent up. 
“So Tork, how’d you get your money?” Dixie asked, parroting Tork’s earlier question. 
“Mostly from my TV show,” he replied. 
“You were on TV?” Johnny asked, excitedly. 
“Uh, yeah, I was on the TV show The Monkees. I told you that.” 
“No you didn’t.” 
“I did. Chichay and Sweaty were trying to convince you that I wasn’t a real monkey. You watched four hours of the show.” 
“Oh that’s right!” Dixie said. 
“I really liked that episode where you guys went to Paris,” said Johnny. 
“And that one where Liberace smashed the piano.” 
“It reminded me of the time we tried to do an art heist,” Johnny said to Dixie. She laughed, then turned back to Tork. 
“So you got all your money from that show?” Dixie asked. 
“Well, ‘all my money’ is a bit of an overstatement, but I have some residual income from both the TV show and the band. Basically I’ve just tooled around with music most of my life, and anytime I ran out of money, we just did a Monkees reunion.” 
“Any time me and Dix run out of money, we just go to DC and rob a bunch of lobbyists.” 
“We should think about doing reunion shows, though.” 
“Reunion shows of what?” Tork asked. 
“Of whatever,” Dixie said. “It doesn’t really matter what.” Tork looked like he was about to argue, but had already learned not to bother. They were all quiet for a while, sipping drinks and watching the sun set over the valley. 
“Should we go over the plan for tomorrow?” Tork asked eventually.  
“Nah, plans are for jerks,” said Dixie, cradling the hollowed out coconut that held her drink. 
“But we should go over the plan for dinner,” Johnny said. “We wanna eat this fancy shit, or go into town and rub elbows with the locals?” 
“Both?” suggested Dixie. “I mean, I’m pretty hungry.” 
“Ok, both it is!” They were about to head downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant when Johnny remembered the moonshine. 
“Oh, check out what the cab driver gave us,” he said, pulling the bottles out of his bag. “It’s like, coconut moonshine I think.” Dixie rushed over and grabbed a bottle. She whipped out her little pearl handled pocket knife, cut off the twine, and yanked off the cork. She held the bottle to her nose and took a deep breath. 
“Ooooooeeeeeee,” she said before taking a gulp. As soon as the ‘shine hit her throat, her eyes bulged and she gasped. “Sweet incapacitating Lobak!” 
“That good? Give it!” Johnny grabbed the bottle and took a drink, having a similar reaction. “Oh yeah, that’s the shit! Tork, try some!” 
“I’m ok right now, friends. Let’s get some food first.” 
“Wuss,” muttered Johnny. 
“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Dixie said. She put the cork back in the bottle and tossed it on the chair by the door. “We’ll save those for tomorrow at the monkey temple.” With that, they left the room and headed down to dinner. 

***

By the middle of the next day, all three were still asleep in their suite of rooms. They had torn it up the night before. 
After closing down the fancy restaurant in the hotel, they headed into town to a local roadside restaurant. Although Tork kept insisting he wasn’t hungry, by the time they’d forced him to drink more Bintang, he was ready to eat again. They ordered everything on the menu twice over at the small hut, heaped praise on the owners, and tipped generously. 
Soon, rumor of their eating, drinking, and tipping prowess attracted other locals, and the joint was jumping. Someone killed the lights and turned up the music. Chairs and tables were pushed aside. Dixie danced seductively with everyone in the room while Johnny made out with the owner of the restaurant. 
By the end of the night, Tork was on the table, lip syncing to Balinese pop songs sung in a language he didn’t speak and acting out scenes from the heyday of The Monkees. The room was captivated. It was clear he was a natural performer. After his last song, he told his audience that he would be taking a five minute break. He sat down at a nearby table and passed out. Johnny, who was outside seated on someone’s motorcycle, had also passed out, so Dixie paid some of her new admirers to get them all back to their hotel. 
Dixie was the first to wake. She left the bedroom wrapped in the bedsheet and fixed herself a drink from the mini bar. Johnny was asleep on the couch in the living room, and she tossed a mini bottle of rum onto him as she walked past, heading to the deck. 
Johnny awoke with a start, as he usually did, performing a series of wild kicks and punches before coming to and realizing where he was. He quickly located the rum bottle and joined Dixie on the porch, tying his sarong tighter around his waist as he went. 
“Great night,” he said, sitting down. Dixie nodded. Her hair was sticking up in all directions and she looked very tired. Johnny’s face bore the marks of the couch’s fabric. They sat in silence, sipping the rum bottles. 
“I’m gonna call for more drinks,” Johnny said. 
“Get some nasi goreng and that black coconut rice,” Dixie croaked. “And something to mix this rum with. And more rum.” 
After Johnny had ordered the food, he returned to the porch and they sat in silence again for a while until Tork appeared. He was awkwardly clutching a sarong around his waist, and looked like he was extraordinarily sick. He sat down uncomfortably and leaned back in the chair, his eyes closed. He winced when he spoke. 
“Do either of you know where my clothes are?” he asked. 
“You traded ‘em for some sarongs last night,” Dixie said, without looking at him. 
“I did?” 
“We all did,” Johnny said, pointing at his own, then into the living room, where colorful pieces of fabric were strewn all over. 
“Why did we trade? Why didn’t we just buy the sarongs and keep our clothes?” Tork asked, confused. 
“Meh,” replied Dixie. 
“Better to blend in with the locals,” Johnny said. 
“But we could have done that without getting rid of our regular clothes,” said Tork, wincing as he got more animated. “I can’t wear this on the plane home!” 
“Shhh!” said Dixie. She handed Tork the rest of the little bottle of rum. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.” 
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up and that I’ll never eat or drink anything ever again. I kind of want to throw up just thinking about it, but thanks for the offer.” 
“Well, if you’re gonna throw up, do it now because I ordered us a breakfast feast. It’ll just go to waste if you puke after you eat it.” 
“How could you think of food or drink after the night we just had?” 
“Because we’re badass bitches who don’t need a man to tell us how to live,” Dixie said. “Now drink that rum. Just trust me.” Reluctantly, Tork tipped his head back and drank. He looked like he was going to throw up, but he suppressed it. A moment later, he looked better. 

***

After their breakfast feast, the group was dressed and ready to go in the lobby of the hotel. They were all wearing sarongs and looked significantly better than they had earlier. Johnny was at the desk, negotiating the rental of three mopeds that they could use to drive themselves to the monkey temple. 
A short while later, they cruised up the road on mopeds, their sarongs whipping behind them in the breeze. Dixie and Johnny sipped beers as they rode, but Tork was too responsible for that. 
The route took them through several small villages, which Dixie and Johnny insisted on stopping in to buy more beer, snacks, and all manner of weird trinkets. They filled a duffle bag strapped to the back of Johnny’s moped. The addition of the stops made what should have been a very short ride take close to an hour. 
When they finally arrived at the sanctuary housing the monkey temples, they were laden down with tourist junk, and Dixie and Johnny were drunk and hungry again. They stopped at a food stall just outside the stone monkey carvings marking the entrance to the sanctuary. Afterward, they paid a small admission fee - Dixie threw a pile of U.S. dollars at the man in the ticket window - and they marched into the sacred monkey forest. 

***

As soon as they entered the park, Dixie bought a bunch of bananas from a stand that sold them to the tourists to feed the monkeys. They followed the path into the forest. Walking along the trail as it snaked deeper into the forest, Dixie and Johnny were, for once, genuinely in awe. The trees were thick above them, and they blocked out the hot afternoon sun, making the forest cool and comfortable. All through those trees, birds and insects sang and chirped. They felt calm and satisfied, and didn’t have the urge to smash or burn anything. Tork was also in awe, but he was almost always in awe, so it wasn’t a surprise. 
As they walked, they passed many more stone statues, similar to those at the entrance, all depicting monkeys of various sizes and shapes, and in various positions. Disappointingly, though, they had yet to see a real monkey. 
“I hope this isn’t just a forest for monkey statues,” Johnny said. “I thought there were actual real monkeys here.” 
“The guy at the ticket window said there were. If he was lying, I’m gonna go back there and cut him.” 
“I think we have to keep walking,” said Tork, “We also haven’t seen any temples, either, and I think the monkeys are at the temples.” Johnny paused to light a cigarette. 
“Johnny, you’ve been smoking a lot more since we’ve gotten here,” Tork commented. 
“Yeah, Western cigarettes just really don’t compare to the Asian ones, you know? The west has so many standards and regulations. With these, you can really taste the dirt, and they’re like a quarter a pack. Reminds me of my childhood.” 
“Your childhood?” 
“Yeah, you know, pickin’ off the fuzz, flyin’ choppers, suckin’ down the tar.” 
“Uh…” Tork said. He was about to press Johnny on these comments, but before he could continue, Johnny caught sight of something ahead, shouted, and sprinted off. 
He arrived at an open plaza of sorts. It was made of paved stones and was surrounded by statues, monuments, and temple buildings. Benches and statues were dotted throughout the space. Johnny stopped, looking around. The others caught up to him a moment later and took in the scene. 
Monkeys were everywhere. They hopped around the ground, begging for food from visitors. They clung to the tops of the temples and monuments. They hid in the trees and bushes. They dug around in the trash bins. Dixie and Johnny were thrilled. 
They made their way through the plaza toward one of the temples. It had a large set of steps in the front with carved monkey and religious decorations on either side. A small plaque stood beside the building. 
“Prajapati Temple,” Tork read. 
“Says here that Prajapati means ‘lord of creatures’,” Johnny said, reading the sign. “That’s me! I’m the lord of all creatures! Except cats!” As he said this, a small band of monkeys waddled up and stood nearby, looking at them hopefully. 
“You know what’s weird about these monkeys?” Dixie asked. 
“Nah,” said Johnny. He was pulling a banana off of the bunch that Dixie had bought in order to feed the monkeys. 
“They’re all fat,” said Dixie, pointing to a particularly rotund monkey sitting at her feet. “Seriously, look at these chubs. Johnny, I don’t know if this is the caliber of monkey we want for our project.”  
“I don’t know, they seem perfectly suited to a desk job,” Johnny addressed the chubby monkey. “You don’t want to climb trees and jump around, do you? You wanna sit in a chair and feel your ass expand. Don’t you?!” As he said this, Johnny handed the monkey the banana. It grabbed it greedily and then bounded off to eat it near the wall of the temple. Another monkey took his place, asking for food. Johnny fed that one, too, and soon he was surrounded by a group of agitated, obese monkeys. 
“Ok, Dix. I think I’ve got ‘em. I’m gonna make my announcement.” Dixie and Johnny climbed to the top of the temple steps and turned to face the group of monkeys below, which had grown to quite a large number. 
“Can I have your attention!” Johnny shouted. The monkeys quieted down and were still, listening. “My colleague and I have come to you today with an exciting offer. We are currently hiring typists for a long term project that will be kicking off at our facility in Bolivia. The pay is generous, you will be provided housing and transportation, and the facilities are state of the art. Most importantly, you will no longer have to fend for yourselves in this forest, beg for food from tourists, or do any other physical activity. If a desk job sounds like the right choice for your career, please see my associate or I to sign a contract. We will be leaving tomorrow afternoon. Thank you.” 
Johnny was about to step down when one of the monkeys reached up for a banana. He pulled it back. 
“You interested in the job, buddy?” he asked. The monkey looked shocked that the food had been taken from him and jumped pathetically a few inches off the ground. He was too fat to get much higher. “These bananas are for typists only. Sign up and you can have one.” 
The monkey’s look changed from shock to anger, and he jumped up, grabbing for the banana. Even angry he couldn’t jump that high, and with a smirk, Johnny lifted the banana higher up into the air. The monkey charged at Johnny, attempting to bite his leg. Johnny gave him a good swift kick, sending him flying across the plaza. 
“Little fucker,” he said, turning to Dixie. “That one’s called Boris. If he changes his mind and tries to sign up, tell him we’re full.” 
By this time, it seemed like all of the monkeys in the park had surrounded Johnny. They were pushing, clawing, and screeching at him, angrily attempting to get the bananas. Another group surrounded Dixie, who didn’t have anything to give them anyway. Across the plaza, Tork had been sitting on a low ledge talking to a small monkey and looked up in horror at what was happening to Dixie and Johnny. He stood up and rushed over. 
“Uh, guys? What’s going on? Do you need help?” he called over the loud screeches of the monkeys. 
“Nah, we’re ok Tork,” Dixie called. “Go back to whatever it is you were doing.” As she said this, a monkey climbed up to her shoulder, clawing its way by pulling on her sarong, which was now twisted and dangerously close to revealing her breasts. She swatted the monkey away, but it was replaced by another one. “What the fuck is with these monkeys? Johnny! What are they saying?” 
“They just keep asking for food!” he yelled, swinging his leg at the monkeys in front of him, and waving his arms at the ones trying to climb his back. “Food. Food. Food. It’s all they say. I don’t know why, because they’re all fat. They aren’t starving.” 
“Johnny…” 
“What?” He swatted another couple of monkeys away. They were particularly portly, and they rolled into a few others, knocking them down like bowling pins. 
“Are these monkeys dumb?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Are they too dumb to work for us?” Dixie kicked a monkey away, then whirled around to swat another few that were approaching from behind. 
“I don’t know,” Johnny called, “I think they’re just lazy assholes who have been living off tourist handouts for too long.” As he said this, a group of monkeys coordinated a jumping attack. Johnny attempted a flying kick, but lost his balance, toppling over backward onto the temple steps. Instantly, the monkeys swarmed and he was buried under a monkey pile within seconds. 
“Johnny!” Dixie screamed. She started trying to fight off her own monkeys to rescue Johnny. “Tork! Johnny’s down!” 
Tork rushed over to Johnny. On the way, he picked up the sign holding the plaque that explained the history of the temple. Holding it like a golf club, he took a wide swing, sweeping an entire row of monkeys away from Johnny. Tork instantly wound up again, sweeping aside another group of monkeys. He could see Johnny’s leg twitching. 
Using the flat end of the signpost, Tork smacked a few monkeys off of Johnny’s head, trying hard not to hit him in the process. Dixie arrived at that moment, kicking wildly at the monkeys that were biting and clawing at Johnny’s arms. Once his arms were free, Dixie and Tork each grabbed one and began to haul Johnny roughly up the temple steps. They stopped every few steps to fend off the attacking monkeys, but eventually got him to the temple door, shoved it open, and threw themselves inside. 

***

It was cool and quiet inside the temple. The screeches of the monkeys were softer now, although the thumping sounds of monkeys throwing themselves at the temple doors could still be heard. Dixie dragged Johnny across the floor and propped him up against the wall. Tork got to work dragging a large shrine depicting a deity he didn’t recognize against the door, just to be safe. 
Dixie unzipped the duffle bag that Johnny was still clinging to, which had miraculously survived the mauling. She pulled out the bottle of coconut moonshine and popped the cork, then tipped Johnny’s head back, pouring some into his mouth. He swallowed, coughed, then gasped. His eyes shot open and he looked at Dixie. 
“What the fuck just happened?” 
“The monkeys got all shitty when you told ‘em they had to work for their food, and they attacked us. You fell down and they kinda engulfed you for a minute there. Tork hit ‘em with a pole and we dragged you in here.” She sat down next to Johnny, took a drink from the moonshine bottle, and passed it to him. Tork came over and dropped down to the floor next to them. 
“That was a close one, Johnny,” Tork said. “I think you got a few bites. We should try to get out here and get you to a doctor.” 
“Why the hell would we do that?” 
“Why would we go to a doctor? Because you just got a bunch of bites from wild monkeys. You too, Dixie. We have no idea what kind of diseases these monkeys have.” 
“Nah, we’re good,” Dixie informed him. “Me and Johnny are up to date on all of our vaccines.” 
“But routine vaccines likely don’t-” 
“We don’t get routine vaccines,” Johnny said. “We have a guy.” 
“You have a guy? Not your passport guy.” 
“No, another guy. He’s a field medic. Gives us a full work up every year.” 
“Covers all the weird shit,” Dixie said, “Jungle illnesses, revenge poisonings, sex diseases, alien parasites, clown bites.” 
“Clown bites?” 
“You obviously haven’t spent a lot of time in Colonial Williamsburg.” 
“Uh huh.” 
“Anyway,” Johnny said, “We’re not gonna catch anything from these little shits. But Tork, maybe when we get back we should call our guy. If you’re gonna be hanging out with us, you should probably take some precautions.” 
Before Tork could respond, a crashing sound came from the side of the temple. There was a small door which the monkeys had discovered and were attempting to break down. Tork was on his feet instantly, and got to work dragging another shrine to barricade the door. Dixie and Johnny sat there sipping moonshine and not helping. 
“Why are we always getting attacked by monkeys?” Dixie asked. 
“What’s this, the third time?” 
“Well, since we started this project.” 
“Oh right, there was that time at the Denver Zoo,” Johnny said. 
“That time was probably our fault, anyway,” Dixie said as Tork returned and sat down with them again. 
“That should hold for a little while,” he said. “So what’s the plan?” 
“Dunno yet,” Johnny said. “What do you think we should do?” 
“I think we should figure out a way to get out of here,” Tork said. 
“Yeah, but then we won’t have any monkeys,” Dixie pointed out. 
“You can’t be serious,” he said. 
“What? We need these monkeys,” Johnny said. 
“They just attacked you!” Tork said, incredulously. “We barely got you out of there! You can’t seriously want to try to take them with you?” 
“No, of course not,” Dixie said. “Tommy’s sending a transport for ‘em. We don’t need to take ‘em with us, we just gotta get ‘em to the docks.” 
“And how do you think you’re going to get them to the docks?” 
“I figure once the ruckus dies down, Johnny can just go talk some sense into them,” Dixie said. Tork sighed. 
“This is a terrible plan.” 
“You got anything better?” 
“No.” 
“Then I guess we’re waiting.” 

***

They stayed inside the temple for a long time. During that time, the monkey ruckus did not, in fact, die down. If anything, the monkeys became more agitated and tried even harder to get into the temple. 
Dixie and Johnny spent the time exploring the temple, which was ornate and impressively crafted. The windows high up in the walls let in a peaceful filtered light. Images lined the walls depicting all manner of symbolic items. The space smelled of jasmine and sandalwood, and only very faintly of monkey. As impressive as the space way, it failed to really connect with them. Mostly they drank the coconut moonshine and fondled the statues. 
Tork, too, explored the space and was much more in awe, showing suitable reverence to the sacred items within. He admired a massive bell near the door for a long time, wanting to touch it but also wanting to remain respectful and not make any noise that would further agitate the monkeys. He really was enjoying the opportunities his kidnapping had provided. 
All the while, the monkeys continued to screech and pound on the temple doors. Outside, the light began to fade. Johnny Go watched out the window near the front of the temple. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the monkeys could see inside. Dixie was sitting near the door, singing softly to herself. Tork walked up and sat beside her. 
“It’s going to be dark soon. I think we need to make a decision on what we’re doing,” he said. “There’s no electricity in this temple.” 
"Eh, electricity is a hoax anyway,” Johnny called from across the temple. “Everyone knows that all modern technology runs on tiny systems of clockwork." 
“Yes, well, that belief aside, I think that in another hour or two, it’s going to be pitch black in here. And if these monkeys haven’t let up, there’s no way we’re going to be able to get out without them attacking us again. We’ll be helpless in the dark. The park will be closed by then, who knows if we’ll be able to get out. We’ll be trapped in this forest with these rabid monkeys and we’ll never see them coming.” 
Dixie was silent as she cracked open the second bottle of moonshine. She fished around in the duffle bag and pulled out a set of drinking cups made of coconuts, along with a couple of bottles of weird fruit juices, all of which she’d picked up on the drive to the monkey temple. She used the empty first bottle of moonshine to mix up a potentially lethal concoction. 
She poured a generous shot of that mixture into one of the cups and downed it, then poured another for herself and one for Tork. 
“Here,” she said, handing him the cup, “Settle a bet for us.” 
“Sure, if I can,” said Tork. He sniffed his cup and made a face. “What’s in this? It smells like a slurpee.” 
“We heard that there’s an episode of your show where you all die, and it’s just sitting in a vault at NBC. Johnny says there’s no way they would have shot that. Who wins the krugerrand?” 
“Hmm…” Tork said. He downed the shot and winced. “That’s not bad, actually. Ok, you’ll have to give that krugerrand to charity because neither of you are right. Top me off and I’ll tell you about it.” Dixie poured another shot. Johnny left his post at the window and plopped down next to him. He pulled a cigarette from his sleeve. 
“Oh, no fucking way. Pour me in, I gotta hear this.” He held out his cup for Dixie and she filled it. 
“Well, Johnny, you’re wrong because we did shoot it. And Dixie, you’re wrong because they burned every last print of that episode, so there’s nothing in a vault. This was toward the end of the show, of course. The papers were all signed for Head, and Jack and Bob were hanging around the set with us in the black box lot. The network stiffs hated that they were just sitting around eating craft services so they thought, let’s put ‘em to work and offered to let them direct an episode. 
“They’re one hundred percent in. They wanted to say something about the war, and we were all about that. They wanted to make it all about some Pynchon book they were obsessed with, and we were fine with that, too. But they knew that the suits would never approve any scripts they turned in, so they make up some hooey about ‘it’s experimental’ and they’re gonna shoot it without one. 
“And then they just start building this huge set. A cross-section of a submarine. Wes Anderson ripped it off in Life Aquatic based on something he heard Jack say in a men’s room once. True Story.” Here, Tork paused and held out his cup for a refill. He downed it in one go, winced a little less this time, then continued:  
“Anyway, we’re playing a family of Greeks fighting the Greco-Turkish war in this homemade submarine they built. Mike’s playing the dad, they’ve got him in this big, ridiculous moustache made out of squirrel hair. Davey’s his son, playing it real young, walking around on his knees. And Mickey and I are playing a big St. Bernard like a pantomime horse. Mickey was the face, naturally. 
“And so, at the end, there’s a big battle scene that’s cut up with a musical number. And while we’re playing, they start flooding the set. Did I mention they built this whole thing in a huge water tank? And we’re singing as the water’s coming up over our heads and bubbles are coming out and we all die. It was gruesome. 
“The studio hated it, of course. Like I said, they burned all the prints. Bob tried to sneak one out, but they sent some hoods to toss his place. They got it. Crying shame.” Tork downed a third cup of ‘shine, which Dixie had refilled while he was talking. This time he didn’t flinch. 
“Fuckin’ A, it’s a shame,” said Johnny, wiping away a tear. “That’s going on the time machine list for sure.” 
“Well, you have a time machine,” Tork said, holding out his cup for more. 
“No, he won’t do it for us anymore,” Dixie said, sadly. 
“Really?” 
“Yeah, he says his genetic anomaly does not exist to do our bidding.” 
“I guess he has a point.” 
“But it’s still bullshit,” said Johnny, taking another drink. 
“It really bothers me because he won’t go to the end of the future, so we’re never really gonna know if the monkeys type Hamlet.” Dixie suddenly looked devastated. “And I mean, he could just go there and tell us.” 
“I know. It kinda makes me think that maybe there’s no point in doing this. We’re not going to live long enough to see it finished,” Johnny said. “Maybe we just do this stuff to fill some kind of void in our lives. Like we’re distracting ourselves from something we’re not strong enough to face.” 
“Honestly, I feel a lot of anxiety over this,” Dixie admitted. “Like, we’re never going to accomplish all the stuff we want to accomplish in our lives. We’re going to die someday and there’s going to still be things we haven’t done.” 
“And what if we’re wasting that time on this? What if there’s something that’s actually important that we should be doing, but we’re spending all our time on this?” Johnny wondered. He slumped over against the wall of the temple. His cigarette dangled from his lip, dangerously close to his shirt. 
“Uh oh,” said Tork under his breath. He reached over and took Johnny’s cigarette out of his mouth before it set fire to his Balinese shirt. Placing it in his own mouth, Tork took a deep inhale, holding it in. He exhaled slowly with a sigh. “First one in forty years, and it’s every bit as good as I remember. And you’re right, Johnny. You can really taste the lack of regulatory oversight and disregard for human life.” He smiled and handed the cigarette back to Johnny, who lifted his head, smiled back, and took a long drag. 
Dixie poured another round of moonshine and the three were about to toss it back when a loud crash sounded. A chunk of rock broke through the window, spraying glass all over the temple and landing with a thud on the tile floor. Dixie and Johnny immediately ducked. Tork got up to investigate. He crossed the room and picked up the rock. 
“It’s the head of one of the monkey statues,” he said, holding it up and inspecting it in the growing darkness of the temple. He looked scared. “Guys, I don’t think they’re calming down out there.” 
“I guess we could just stay the night here,” Dixie suggested. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tork asked. 
“Why not? We have snacks and a bottle of moonshine,” Johnny said. 
“Half a bottle.” 
“Ok, half a bottle. Wait, that might not be enough,” Johnny said. He stood up and walked toward where Tork was standing. “You’re right. We gotta get out of here. Let’s see what we can use as weapons.” 
Just as Johnny reached Tork, the monkey noise outside reached a crescendo, and in the next instant there was another loud crash as a chunk of rock, larger this time, sailed through another window. It was a direct hit in the back of Johnny’s head, and he stumbled forward into Tork. 
Tork attempted to catch Johnny, but as he took a step backward, he lost his balance, falling head first into the giant bell hanging near the back door. 

GOOOOOOOOONG

The bell rang deeply and loudly, the sound reverberating throughout the temple. They could feel it through the floor and in their chests. It continued to ring long after Tork’s head had struck and he and Johnny had both managed to sit up, dazed. 
When the ringing finally died down, a calm silence washed over the temple. Gone were the monkey sounds. Only the forest birds and insects could be heard. 
“Hey,” Dixie whispered, “I think the monkeys went away.” Johnny got to his feet and went to the window. 
“No, they’re still here,” he said. “But they’re just kinda… standing at attention?” 
“What?” Dixie got to her feet and went over to the window. Tork joined them. 
“I’ll be damned,” Dixie said. “It’s like they’re in a trance.” 
“Do you think the bell did that?” Tork asked, turning from the window to look at the bell. 
“Only one way to find out,” Johnny said, picking up the chunk of statue. He brought it down on the bell. Hard. 

GOOOOOOOOONG

Johnny turned back to the window and the three of them watched as the monkeys in front stood a little straighter. Behind them, more monkeys rushed over, stopping behind the first group and staring intently and silently at the temple. 
“Do you think someone trained ‘em to act like this?” Dixie asked. 
“I don’t know,” said Johnny. “If they did, though, then they’re probably smarter than we had ‘em pegged initially.” 
“So what do we do?” asked Dixie. 
“Maybe we try hitting the bell in different ways,” suggested Tork. “If we find the right pattern, we might be able to control them.” 

***

Dixie, Johnny, and Tork stood at the top of the steps of the temple, looking out over a veritable sea of eerily quiet and still monkeys. Tork held the bell, which they had wrenched free from its place inside the temple. He struggled slightly under the weight. 
“Friends,” said Johnny, “We are here today with the offer of a lifetime.” 
As Johnny spoke, Dixie struck the bell. It rang a little less loudly because there was no echo of the stone temple, but still loudly enough to get a reaction from the monkeys, and to cause Tork a little bit of inner ear damage. Johnny nodded to Dixie and Tork, indicating that they should start walking away from the temple to see what the monkeys would do. 
Tork took a few steps toward the forest path they had arrived on, carrying the bell. Dixie walked beside him and struck the bell again as they walked. The monkeys turned and followed it. They waited for the monkeys to catch up, then Dixie struck the bell and they took another couple of steps. The monkeys followed. 
Dixie looked over her shoulder to Johnny who nodded and jogged to the front of the group of monkeys. He turned to face them. 
“Friends,” he began, “My colleagues and I have come to you today with an exciting offer…” 

***

Johnny Go cruised very slowly down the road on his moped. Beside him, Tork matched his pace on his own moped, with the temple bell wedged on the footrest. Tork sat sideways, as there was no place for his feet to go. Every mile or so, Johnny would swerve closer, using the empty moonshine bottle to strike a note on the bell. 
Behind them, the road was full of monkeys, marching along behind the bell as if in a trance. They walked and hopped, and some of the more athletic ones even climbed into the trees and followed along overhead. The obese monkeys stayed on the ground, though, and mostly tried to keep up. 
At the back of the line rode Dixie, moonshine bottle tucked between her legs, and a large switch cut from a tree branch in her hand. She swerved back and forth, herding the monkeys, keeping them moving forward. Periodically she used the switch to usher some of the slower ones back into the group. 
They marched like that, Johnny Go as the Pied Piper, leading the monkeys all the way from the temple in the sacred monkey forest to the docks. There, a boat had been arranged, which would take them to a neighboring island and a cargo plane. From there, it was steady on to Dallas-Ft. Worth, where Sharif would pick them up and bring them to the ranch. 
They had done it. 

***

After dropping off the monkeys, Dixie, Johnny, and Tork returned triumphantly to their lavish hotel, intending to tie one on and go out in style. As they entered the lobby, Dixie and Johnny went to the restaurant to place an epic room service order, and to get a couple of drinks to hold them over on the way up to the room. As they did this, the concierge at the front desk waved Tork over and handed him a slightly battered air mail envelope. Confused, he took it and then followed Dixie and Johnny to the room. 
Once inside the room, a celebratory Dixie and Johnny opened every alcoholic beverage they had and set about toasting their success over and over again. Tork sat in a chair on the deck holding the envelope. 
“You gonna open that shit or not, Tork?” Johnny asked, tossing back a rum drink that was served in a hollowed out pineapple. 
“I guess so,” Tork said quietly. “I just find mail to be so exciting that I like to take a moment to savor it.” 
“Ok, weirdo,” Dixie said, popping the cap off of a beer and handing it to him. “But you’re not pulling your weight with this booze, so get your work done and start drinking.” 
Finally, Tork slowly opened the envelope. Inside was a smaller brown document envelope. He removed that, tore it open, and reached inside, pulling out two brand new passports. He gasped. 
“My passports!” he cried. “I can’t believe they’re here already! Your guy works really fast.” 
“Yeah, that’s what we keep him around for,” said Dixie, leaning over to look at the passports. 
“So what’d ya get?” Asked Johnny, lighting a cigarette and taking a long pull from a bottle at the same time. 
“Well,” said Tork, “Here we have me as Sten P. Ork of Connecticut, U.S.A., and this one is me as Horatio Torque of Mariscal Estigarribia, Paraguay.” He held the passports up proudly. 
“I don’t know how far you’re gonna get on that Paraguay passport,” Dixie said, “But congratulations, Tork! You’re really part of the crew now.” 
Tork sat back in his chair and took a long drink, holding the new passports tightly in his left hand. He was beaming. 

Monkeys Collected: 1,015