Spank that Monkey
The compound is in motion as the monkeys flee from their places and seek refuge in the trees. Looks like about a dozen of them. They aren't unlike racoons in their ability to get into things. Luckily, at least outside, it looks like they only got into the little bit of trash that was left here before we headed for the Amazon.
Inside is a different story. Those little bastards pretty much tossed the place. Any clean laundry I had has been spread around the place like cotton confetti. Most of my clothing is torn to bits, like they had a tug of war or something. I half wondered if I might have accidently killed one of them with the plane, or in the truck without knowing. They have a vengeful streak, I have heard.
Now Lou, he has shot a couple of them out of the trees checking the sights on a pistol or two. They weren't much more than big squirrels to him. I remembering him wishing they were squirrels... they would present more of a challenge. But all of this was away from the compound out about two miles by a parts plane. I don't know how they would have made the connection with Lou and the compound from way out there.
Never the less, it is a fucking mess and we need to clean it up. There has been someone here. Had to be the girls from the store in town. They brought several containers of goat jerky and two cases of beer, still cold, on the counter. In the kitchen area we find the trash cleaned up and the floor still wet from where they mopped it.
"Must have just missed them." Jerry tears the end off of one the cases and pulls a beer. He turns the case and slides it toward me and I stop it's progress. I pull one and offer it up to Lou, and then grab another for myself. Then it's survey the mess of torn clothing.
"They better not have torn up any of my Grateful Dead tour shirts." I walk over and pick up a handful of shirt fragments. I can already see that a few of my collection are among the dead.
"Motherfuckers."
I have lost three of my collection to the hairy ones. I will be shooting a few myself next time on principle alone. They broke the glass on the pinball machine, tore the coffee maker apart, and damaged our solar array out in the compound.
Jerry takes an inventory of what we will need. Lou is standing there with a smirk on his face.
"Something funny?" I ask him. He didn't lose much because he didn't have much here in the compound.
"This place doesn't look any more torn apart than before you left. It always looks like a few zoo animals made a mess in here."
"Is that right?" I shake my beer and let him have the spray. I get the same in return. When we go to get reloads, Jerry pulls the open case toward himself.
"You boys take your shinanigans outside. Beer is for drinking."
We both take pause for a beat or two, then grab the unopened case.
"Fuck you, Mommy." Lou is the first to fire, putting his thumb over the newly opened bottle and shaking wildly, then letting it loose to spray. He turns the bottle on Jerry, as do I. As the foam is dripping onto his shoulders I see that look in his eye that would scare off the toughest dark alley predator. A warning to Lou seems in order.
"Hey, Lou, that will be enough." I head for the door.
"Oh hell, you afraid of Jerry?"
Before he can utter another word Jerry grabs a bottle in each hand, gives them a quick rattle, and then breaks the tops off of them on the butcher block for effect.
He chases Lou out onto the deck and then Lou leaps over the railing and manages the ten foot drop rather cleanly.
"What got up his ass?" Lou stands slowly, looking up at the drop he just made.
We make quick work of the two cases of beer, minus the six that we wasted. The monkeys had pissed on the only dry firewood we have. We have no ice in the storage chests and now we need beer to put in them, so we pile into the Jeep and head into town. We don't worry about the compound now. Those hairy little bastards know we are home now and they won't do much save chatter at us from the trees. A couple of them have winged objects at us while we drive the path into town, but not today.
Not much going on in our little village. It is after 9pm and if they had any sidewalks they would be rolled up by now. We find a fire still burning at Nester's cousin's Cantina up the road, so we head over there.
Yep, a fire... and that is all we find. We shut down the Jeep and stand there looking at the firepit, wishing we had a couple of plates full of that Pollo they cook. It's pretty quiet. Usually you hear conversation or kids playing.
"Puede compramos algún alimento" Jerry calls to the living area up top. After a few moments one of Nester's cousins, Arianna, comes down in her nightgown. She talks with Jerry for a moment, he gives her a hug, and she heads back up the stairs. Jerry turns around and has a key in his hand.
We walk to the ice house out back and open it. It isn't an ice house any more, more of a storage area that is kept semi-cold with parts from an old refridgerator. Inside are the covered bowls of Pollo and black beans they have left over from their "special" tonight. We each grab some containers and move out into the dining area. Jerry takes another quick walk back to the ice house and returns with three large bottles of Tecate and a bottle of Agua Loca... crazy water. It is local tequila, repisado, and it will have you seeing things if you drink enough of it. Luckily it is half empty.
The three of us sit in the dark next to the fire pit and eat our marinated chicken and black beans. With that cold Tecate it is to die for. Lou has a grip on the Agua Loca that he won't release. After the fourth tug on that bottle, he finally reliquishes to Jerry, who takes a swig and passes it to me. Even though Lou looks ready to receive it again, I hold it this time. After a few more bites of food and a some Tecate I take another pull off of the tequila and pass it to Lou.
His eyes brighten as he grabs the bottle, like a little light came on in his head. He stands and walks over to the small table by the road, stands on it, and reaches into the rafters of the sun cover.
"Hell ya." His hand comes down holding two Walkers.
"Now when the hell did you put those up there?" I sure as hell don't remember that.
"Before we went up to the Big City to trade our gold for cash."
"No shit."
"Non given."
The sweet smell of one of Lou's original stash from his bar floats between us as we focus on the glowing coals of the fire pit. There is complete silence with the exception of us hitting on that first Walker and the occasional guzzle of Agua Loca.
Jerry breaks the silence.
"What about this Clarok? What do you suppose it does?"
My mind is no where near that conversation. I am thinking of Abigail and doing a walk-around... tomorrow, early, before it gets so fucking hot and sticky.
"Dunno" is all I can muster.
Lou on the other hand is right there with him.
"I think it is some type of device to talk to the dead or something. Like that thing on a Ouija Board." He breathes out smoke as he talks so it looks like it is thirty degrees out here. I'm already tripping.
Jerry takes the stub of the Walker as Lou passes. "What if it is something more? These Mayans were into a lot of crazy shit."
"It's just a fucking salad bowl with six hand-holds." Lou scoffs. "We'll make ole' Auntie Nellie happy and do his little experiment. If his father thought it was important, then we will do it in his memory." He takes a pull off the tequila. "Personally I think it is all a bunch of shit. Huge waste of time."
"Like you have anything important to do with your time." I down the rest of the Tecate and wish there was more.
"My calendar is full, Nancy."
"No shit?"
"Day after tomorrow we have to fly to Hautulco and I need to settle a few things."
"I'll check my calendar."
"Fuck your calendar, you're going. I don't know where that little airstrip is and I might have forgotten a few things about flying Naomi."
"Before you boys head out I need Abigail serviced and ready. I have to make a couple of runs this week." Jerry stands, cueing us that it is time to start back.
I feel like telling Jerry that we don't need to worry about runs with Abigail any more, that we have plenty of cash after all of this has gone down. But I know it's not about the money with Jerry, it's about the flying.
We ride back to the compound in silence. The jungle noise is taking a backseat to my thoughts. Thoughts about this Clarok, about this experiment. There is so much we haven't been told. I don't think it is a farce. People have died for this. They all must have known a lot more than we do or it wouldn't mean shit. I have a feeling the next thirty days will go by like cars on a freight train. And I have the strange feeling that I should say my goodbyes.
Inside is a different story. Those little bastards pretty much tossed the place. Any clean laundry I had has been spread around the place like cotton confetti. Most of my clothing is torn to bits, like they had a tug of war or something. I half wondered if I might have accidently killed one of them with the plane, or in the truck without knowing. They have a vengeful streak, I have heard.
Now Lou, he has shot a couple of them out of the trees checking the sights on a pistol or two. They weren't much more than big squirrels to him. I remembering him wishing they were squirrels... they would present more of a challenge. But all of this was away from the compound out about two miles by a parts plane. I don't know how they would have made the connection with Lou and the compound from way out there.
Never the less, it is a fucking mess and we need to clean it up. There has been someone here. Had to be the girls from the store in town. They brought several containers of goat jerky and two cases of beer, still cold, on the counter. In the kitchen area we find the trash cleaned up and the floor still wet from where they mopped it.
"Must have just missed them." Jerry tears the end off of one the cases and pulls a beer. He turns the case and slides it toward me and I stop it's progress. I pull one and offer it up to Lou, and then grab another for myself. Then it's survey the mess of torn clothing.
"They better not have torn up any of my Grateful Dead tour shirts." I walk over and pick up a handful of shirt fragments. I can already see that a few of my collection are among the dead.
"Motherfuckers."
I have lost three of my collection to the hairy ones. I will be shooting a few myself next time on principle alone. They broke the glass on the pinball machine, tore the coffee maker apart, and damaged our solar array out in the compound.
Jerry takes an inventory of what we will need. Lou is standing there with a smirk on his face.
"Something funny?" I ask him. He didn't lose much because he didn't have much here in the compound.
"This place doesn't look any more torn apart than before you left. It always looks like a few zoo animals made a mess in here."
"Is that right?" I shake my beer and let him have the spray. I get the same in return. When we go to get reloads, Jerry pulls the open case toward himself.
"You boys take your shinanigans outside. Beer is for drinking."
We both take pause for a beat or two, then grab the unopened case.
"Fuck you, Mommy." Lou is the first to fire, putting his thumb over the newly opened bottle and shaking wildly, then letting it loose to spray. He turns the bottle on Jerry, as do I. As the foam is dripping onto his shoulders I see that look in his eye that would scare off the toughest dark alley predator. A warning to Lou seems in order.
"Hey, Lou, that will be enough." I head for the door.
"Oh hell, you afraid of Jerry?"
Before he can utter another word Jerry grabs a bottle in each hand, gives them a quick rattle, and then breaks the tops off of them on the butcher block for effect.
He chases Lou out onto the deck and then Lou leaps over the railing and manages the ten foot drop rather cleanly.
"What got up his ass?" Lou stands slowly, looking up at the drop he just made.
We make quick work of the two cases of beer, minus the six that we wasted. The monkeys had pissed on the only dry firewood we have. We have no ice in the storage chests and now we need beer to put in them, so we pile into the Jeep and head into town. We don't worry about the compound now. Those hairy little bastards know we are home now and they won't do much save chatter at us from the trees. A couple of them have winged objects at us while we drive the path into town, but not today.
Not much going on in our little village. It is after 9pm and if they had any sidewalks they would be rolled up by now. We find a fire still burning at Nester's cousin's Cantina up the road, so we head over there.
Yep, a fire... and that is all we find. We shut down the Jeep and stand there looking at the firepit, wishing we had a couple of plates full of that Pollo they cook. It's pretty quiet. Usually you hear conversation or kids playing.
"Puede compramos algún alimento" Jerry calls to the living area up top. After a few moments one of Nester's cousins, Arianna, comes down in her nightgown. She talks with Jerry for a moment, he gives her a hug, and she heads back up the stairs. Jerry turns around and has a key in his hand.
We walk to the ice house out back and open it. It isn't an ice house any more, more of a storage area that is kept semi-cold with parts from an old refridgerator. Inside are the covered bowls of Pollo and black beans they have left over from their "special" tonight. We each grab some containers and move out into the dining area. Jerry takes another quick walk back to the ice house and returns with three large bottles of Tecate and a bottle of Agua Loca... crazy water. It is local tequila, repisado, and it will have you seeing things if you drink enough of it. Luckily it is half empty.
The three of us sit in the dark next to the fire pit and eat our marinated chicken and black beans. With that cold Tecate it is to die for. Lou has a grip on the Agua Loca that he won't release. After the fourth tug on that bottle, he finally reliquishes to Jerry, who takes a swig and passes it to me. Even though Lou looks ready to receive it again, I hold it this time. After a few more bites of food and a some Tecate I take another pull off of the tequila and pass it to Lou.
His eyes brighten as he grabs the bottle, like a little light came on in his head. He stands and walks over to the small table by the road, stands on it, and reaches into the rafters of the sun cover.
"Hell ya." His hand comes down holding two Walkers.
"Now when the hell did you put those up there?" I sure as hell don't remember that.
"Before we went up to the Big City to trade our gold for cash."
"No shit."
"Non given."
The sweet smell of one of Lou's original stash from his bar floats between us as we focus on the glowing coals of the fire pit. There is complete silence with the exception of us hitting on that first Walker and the occasional guzzle of Agua Loca.
Jerry breaks the silence.
"What about this Clarok? What do you suppose it does?"
My mind is no where near that conversation. I am thinking of Abigail and doing a walk-around... tomorrow, early, before it gets so fucking hot and sticky.
"Dunno" is all I can muster.
Lou on the other hand is right there with him.
"I think it is some type of device to talk to the dead or something. Like that thing on a Ouija Board." He breathes out smoke as he talks so it looks like it is thirty degrees out here. I'm already tripping.
Jerry takes the stub of the Walker as Lou passes. "What if it is something more? These Mayans were into a lot of crazy shit."
"It's just a fucking salad bowl with six hand-holds." Lou scoffs. "We'll make ole' Auntie Nellie happy and do his little experiment. If his father thought it was important, then we will do it in his memory." He takes a pull off the tequila. "Personally I think it is all a bunch of shit. Huge waste of time."
"Like you have anything important to do with your time." I down the rest of the Tecate and wish there was more.
"My calendar is full, Nancy."
"No shit?"
"Day after tomorrow we have to fly to Hautulco and I need to settle a few things."
"I'll check my calendar."
"Fuck your calendar, you're going. I don't know where that little airstrip is and I might have forgotten a few things about flying Naomi."
"Before you boys head out I need Abigail serviced and ready. I have to make a couple of runs this week." Jerry stands, cueing us that it is time to start back.
I feel like telling Jerry that we don't need to worry about runs with Abigail any more, that we have plenty of cash after all of this has gone down. But I know it's not about the money with Jerry, it's about the flying.
We ride back to the compound in silence. The jungle noise is taking a backseat to my thoughts. Thoughts about this Clarok, about this experiment. There is so much we haven't been told. I don't think it is a farce. People have died for this. They all must have known a lot more than we do or it wouldn't mean shit. I have a feeling the next thirty days will go by like cars on a freight train. And I have the strange feeling that I should say my goodbyes.
posted by Jake Allen at 11:32 AM
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