Monkey Business (4 page)

Chapter Six: I Take Charge of the Monkey

I
caught my breath and then addressed him. “You are a monkey, is that correct?”

“Eee eeee.”

“I don't know much about monkeys, so we'll need to establish some lines of authority here. I notice that you have sharp teeth, as well as a pair of hands that can wield a club or a rock. So I guess our basic question here is, are you taking over my ranch?”

He just stared at me and grinned. He didn't appear as ferocious now as he had when he'd come out of the box and scared the horses. I decided to test him. I stood up and began walking around.

“Of course, another way of looking at the deal—I'm not saying this is the way it has to be, understand, just throwing out ideas—is that you're on my ranch. One possible interpretation is that you've come under the authority of the Security Division. How does that grab you?”

He grinned and clapped his hands.

When I spoke again, I could hear boldness creeping back into my voice. “As a matter of fact, that's exactly what has happened. You're on my ranch and I happen to be in charge here—unless, of course, you have serious objections to that.”

He stuck one of his little humanoid fingers into his left ear and drilled out some wax. My impression was that he was buying my program.

I began swaggering back and forth in front of him. “Okay, let me lay out some basic rules of behavior. We'll try to get you back to the circus as soon as possible, but in the meantime, you are on MY ranch, do you understand that?”

“Eee eee.”

“While you're on my ranch, you will follow my orders and do as I say. Is that clear?”

He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. This was going better than I had expected.

“I get the feeling that you kind of like the idea of taking orders from me, is that correct?” Again, he clapped his hands. “Well, let's talk about that. I have no use for monkeys or anyone else who can't take orders, who grumbles when asked to do certain jobs, or who questions my authority.”

This time, the little rascal did a back flip. I mean, he was just by George beside himself about meeting the H.D.I.C. (Head Dog In Charge). I continued pacing.

“On other outfits, the same job as mine would carry the title of King, Emperor, Caesar, or Grand Potentate. We use the more modest Head of Ranch Security, but don't let that fool you. I carry a lot of weight around here.”

The monkey clapped and grinned and hopped up and down.

“While you're here on the ranch, you should feel free to think of me as the Grand Potentate.” He liked that! “Or, the Great Grand Potentate, if you prefer.” He liked that even better!

“Speaking of which, I just happen to have a position open on my staff. I'm looking for a guy with absolute loyalty and unquestioned obedience. I've never hired a monkey before, but . . .” I stopped pacing, turned suddenly, looked him square in the eyes, and said, “How would you like to go to work for me, son?”

I had never seen a happier monkey. He ran around in a circle, did handsprings and cartwheels, and ended the whole thing by bowing before me and saying, “Eee eee! Eee eee!”

Fellers, that was good enough for me. I hired him on the spot.

I looked down at the little guy and couldn't help smiling. I mean, I had made him SO HAPPY!

Here was a poor little monkey who was lost and alone, who'd been torn from his home and cast out into the cold, cruel world, who had no chance to advance or improve himself or use his talents, who'd been locked in a dark prison until I came along and flang open the doors of freedom.

Hey, if you can't make somebody happy in this old world, you might as well be somewhere else . . . although I don't know where else you'd go, come to think of it.

But the point is, I had brought absolute happiness to this monkey while at the same time solving a small problem of my own—namely, replacing a certain grumbling, begrudging, half-stepping, gold-bricking, hypocardiac little mutt as my First Assistant.

It was shaping up to be a heck of a deal.

“All right, Monkey, now let's get down to the conditions of your employment. Sit.” He sat, instantly, and I mean, I had his full attention. I liked that. “Here is a brief job description. You will attend to every tiny whim and desire of your master. Is that clear?”

He rippled his lips and clapped.

“Every morning, you will bring a bowl of dog food to my bed. Then, while I'm eating, you will pick the grass stems, weed seeds, and stickers out of my coat. When I rise from my bed, you will snap to attention, do a backward flip, lift your hat three times, and then slap yourself hard on both cheeks. Try it once. Let's see if you can do it.”

Hey, this was a good monkey! He remembered the whole routine and followed it to the letter.

“Very good, Monkey, although in actual practice, I'll want you to slap yourself a little harder than that. It's to remind you that, in the grand scale of things, you're really not much.”

You know what that monkey did then? He SLUGGED himself with each fist, and I mean, slugged himself so hard that it knocked him down!

“That's more like it! You bet, that's okay, just right. I like the way you do things, Monkey. Now, one last thing. When I tell you, ‘The Great Grand Potentate will now sit,' I'll expect you to have the ground swept clean before my hams touch down.”

His face brightened. He nodded his head and went through the sweeping procedure. I walked over and examined the ground.

“Could be cleaner, but not bad for the first time out. I think we're ready to make our first appearance down at headquarters. You will go in front and clear my path of chickens, cats, and other obnoxious creatures. I will come along behind. Do you understand Us?”

He clapped his hands and nodded his head.

“Very good. Oh, before we set out, why don't you slap yourself around a few more times, just to be sure you've got it.”

Say, that monkey got after the program, slugged himself so hard on the chin that it knocked him out! I had to shake him a few times to bring him around.

“That was just right. I think you've got the idea. We will now proceed to ranch headquarters. Oh, one last thing, Monkey.” I placed a paw on his shoulder and spoke to him in a voice that was heavy with sincerity. “I'd rather the people at the house didn't see you. They might try to send you back to your cruel master in the circus. Now that we've won your freedom, we don't want to take any chances of losing it. It's, uh, for your own good, do you understand?”

He nodded and said, “Eee eee.”

We set out for headquarters. Monkey went in front, walking on all-fours part of the time and on his hind legs part of the time. It was clever, the way he could do that. When he wasn't looking, I tried it myself and it didn't work.

As we rounded the west side of the machine shed, Monkey, as I called him, made his first contact with the chicken-rabble. I watched him carefully to see how he handled them.

The first chicken he came to was pecking gravel and paying no attention to world events. My monkey fixed her by pulling five large feathers from her tail and then booting her out of the way. Her squawking was music to my ears.

The other chickens scattered, leaving Us a clear path to the front of the machine shed. There, We halted the procession. “We will pause here, Monkey, so that We might address the rabble. The Great Grand Potentate will sit.”

Sure enough, before Our royal bohunkus touched the ground, Monkey had it swept clean. The ground, not the bohunkus.

We cleared Our throat and looked around at the circle of chickens, who were watching Us rather carefully now.

“We have a message to deliver: You are all lowly scum and you will not clutter Our path. Those chickens who disregard Our commandment will be dealt with by Our captain of the guards. We will now proceed forward, Monkey.”

We rose from Our sitting position, and Captain Monkey swept the particles of dirt and so forth from Our backside.

The procession resumed, winding its way down toward the gas tanks, but as We passed in front of the machine shed, Our glance happened to fall upon a certain smirking, insolent face in the crowd.

“Halt! Monkey, come here!” He came back to Us in a run. We liked the way he hustled when We called his name. “Monkey, you see that cat basking in the sun over there? He isn't showing Us the proper respect. Can you think of some way of calling this to his attention?”

Monkey grinned and a wicked little twinkle came into his eyes, something I hadn't noticed before. I had a feeling that with the proper training and direction, this monkey could turn out to be a dangerous weapon.

“Get the cat and bring him to Us!”

Monkey bounded over to the machine shed doors. When Pete saw him coming, he rose to his feet, pinned back his ears, threw a hump into his back, and began to hiss and yowl. Monkey's answer to that was very simple: He snatched Pete up by the tail and brought him to me—Us, I should say.

“Eee eee!”

“Well done, Monkey.” We smirked and looked into Pete's dark eyes. “In the future, cat, when Our procession files past, you will stand at attention and show Us the proper respect. Failure to do so will result in your being seized by the Captain of the Guard.”

Pete hissed and yowled and clawed the air.

“Monkey,” We said, “spank him!”

With what you might describe as devilish glee, the monkey proceeded to deliver three swats to Kitty-Kitty's backside, while We watched and gloated and chuckled. It was one of Our better moments on the ranch.

“Release the swine,” We ordered, “and proceed forward! To the gas tanks, Monkey.”

Once again, the procession began to move through the central plaza of ranch headquarters. Pete the Barncat observed the rest of the parade from one of the lower branches of the nearest elm tree, into which he had climbed upon being released by the Captain of the Guard.

If looks could have killed, We would have suffered mortal wounds from the cat. Oh, Kitty-Kitty was stirred up!