Summer of the Monkeys

by Wilson Rawls

  I was having an eyeball fight with that monkey when another one came from somewhere and plopped himself down on the other side of me. The first thing I knew there was a complete circle of monkeys all around Rowdy and me. They started walking around us stiff-legged, with their tails standing straight up, and looking at us sideways.

  “Rowdy,” I said, “I believe these monkeys are up to something. You’ve been wanting to jump on them, and from the looks of things, I think you’re going to get the chance.”

  Old Rowdy wasn’t scared. He kept looking at me and waiting for the “Get-um” sign.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. Something had to be done. I jerked off my old straw hat, threw it at one of the monkeys, and shouted, “You get away from here. Get now!”

  I may as well have been telling Sally Gooden not to jump over the pasture fence. The monkeys didn’t even act like they had heard what I said. They just kept circling around and around and around. I could see that the circle was getting smaller and smaller.

  I almost unscrewed my head from my neck following those circling monkeys with my eyes.

  “Rowdy,” I said, “we’ve got to do something. We can’t just stand here and let these monkeys play ring-around-the-rosy with us.”

  Just then that hundred dollar monkey started grunting that monkey talk again. The little monkeys must have understood what he was saying, for they stopped circling us. They just stood there on their spindly legs, staring straight at Rowdy and me with no expression at all on their silly little faces.

  This was too much for me. Every nerve in my body was twanging like the “e” string on a fiddler’s fiddle. I was trying to figure out which way to run when it happened. A small monkey with a long skinny tail dropped down from a branch directly above me and landed right on top of my head. He grabbed a wad of my hair in all four of his tiny paws; then he leaned over and took hold of my right ear with his teeth. I dropped my net and squalled at the same time.

  Shouting, “Get-um, Rowdy!” I reached up with both hands, grabbed that monkey by the tail, and started pulling. It was like pulling on the rubbers of my beanshooter. The harder I pulled, the longer that monkey seemed to get. I learned something right then. The long skinny tail of a monkey is the best thing in the world to get a good hand hold on.

  Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I gave a hard jerk on the monkey’s tail. Along with a lot of my hair and skin, he came loose.

  I was never so mad in all my life.

  I still had a good hold on the monkey’s tail, and before he could turn around and bite my hands, I started turning in a circle as fast as I could. About halfway in the middle of the third turn I let loose. He sailed out over the bottoms like a flying squirrel and lit in the top of a good-size bush.

  The little monkey didn’t seem to be hurt at all. He let out a squeak and hopped down to the ground. For a second he stood on his hind legs and showed his needle-sharp teeth; then here he came again—straight at me—ready for some more fighting.

  He hadn’t taken over three steps when all at once he fell over backwards. He got to his feet again, took a few more steps, and this time he fell flat on his face. He was so dizzy from that whirlwind I had put him through he couldn’t seem to do anything. This tickled me.

  I yelled, “How do you like that, you little devil? If you jump on my head again, I’ll sling you clear into Arkansas.”

  My fight with the monkey had taken only a few seconds. During that time, I had been so busy I had completely forgotten about Old Rowdy. On hearing a loud bellow from him, I turned to see how he was making out. Boy, did I ever get a surprise.

  I saw right away that Rowdy had made a terrible mistake. He was having the fight of his life. He usually enjoyed a good fight, but from the looks and sounds of things, I didn’t think he was enjoying this fight very much. He didn’t seem to be making any headway at all.

  Rowdy was built just right for good monkey biting and the monkeys had sure taken advantage of this. It looked like every square inch of his hide had a monkey glued to it. His long legs and tail were covered with monkeys. Two of the little devils were sitting right on the top of his head, holding on with all four paws. And they had their teeth clamped on his soft tender ears. More monkeys were lined up on his back like snowbirds on a fence; biting, clawing, and squealing. The hair was really flying.

  The monkeys were so quick Rowdy couldn’t get ahold of them. Every time he snapped at one, he would wind up with a mouth full of air and no monkey.

  I saw right away that if I didn’t do something the monkeys were surely going to have a hound dog for breakfast. Looking around for a good whipping stick, I spied one about ten feet away and darted over to get it. The monkeys must have realized what I intended to do, for just as I stooped over to get the stick, a little monkey flew in from somewhere and landed right in the middle of my back.

  I forgot all about the stick and was trying to reach around behind me and get ahold of the monkey’s tail when another one darted in and latched onto my leg. I was trying to get ahold of that one when another one came squeaking in and bit me on the hand.

  In a matter of seconds, I had monkeys all over me. They were biting, clawing, scratching, and squealing. I was hopping all over the place and making more racket than a tomcat with his tail caught in a mouse trap.

  Just when things were looking really bad for Rowdy and me, from high in the bur oak tree, the big monkey let out a few grunts and a loud squall. He must have been telling the little monkeys not to eat us completely up—to save a little for the next time—because they turned us loose and disappeared in the underbrush.

  Everything had happened so fast, it left Rowdy and me in a daze. I could hardly believe it. One minute we were fighting monkeys all over the place, and the next minute there wasn’t a monkey in sight. We just stood there in the silence about twenty feet apart looking at each other.

  Rowdy seemed to be more mixed up than I was. He just couldn’t believe that a fight like that could have happened so fast and ended so fast.

  I looked over to where I had dropped my net. There it was right where I had dropped it; wide open and not a monkey in it. I couldn’t believe it. How on earth could the little monkeys have gotten out of the net? My first thought was that the yellow ring had gotten tangled in a bush, and while the monkeys were flouncing and dragging the net over the ground, the net had opened.

  I glanced down at the yellow ring and almost jumped out of my shoes. I saw that it had been pulled all right and it wasn’t tangled in any bush.

  Mumbling to myself, I said, “Holy smokes! I’ll bet while Rowdy and I were fighting the little monkeys, the big monkey sneaked in and opened the net.”

  I was still trying to figure out how the monkeys had gotten out of my net when I heard a noise from the bur oak tree. I looked up into the branches. There on a big limb stood the big monkey. He was just standing there looking as proud as a general that had won a war.

  When the big monkey saw that I was looking at him, he really made a fool out of himself. Staring straight at me, he started jumping up and down on the limb and uttering those deep grunts. He threw his head back and beat on his chest with his paws; then he opened his big mouth and started laughing. He laughed so loud the bottoms rang with his monkey laughter.

  This made me so mad I all but choked.

  Shaking my fist at him, I yelled, “You’re not such a brave monkey. You sicked those little monkeys on Rowdy and me but you didn’t do any fighting. What’s the matter? Are you scared? If you’ll come down here, we’ll fight you all over these bottoms.”

  The big monkey must have understood what I said. He stopped laughing, and with a few grunts, he started dropping down from the tree. My hair flew straight up.

  “Rowdy,” I said, as I picked up my empty net, “I don’t know about you but I’ve had all the monkey fighting I want for one day. Let’s get out of here.”

  I didn’t have to tell Rowdy but once. He felt about monkey fighting like I did. He was way ahe
ad of me when we tore out down a game trail.

  We hadn’t gone far when I looked back over my shoulder and saw that there were no monkeys chasing us.

  “Rowdy,” I said, as I walked over and sat down on a sycamore log, “I think we can stop running now. Maybe we can’t whip those monkeys but we can sure outrun them.”

  Taking my handkerchief out of my pocket, I started dabbing my monkey bites. Rowdy sat down on his rear and started licking his wounds.

  “Rowdy,” I said, “if you think we’re in a mess now, you haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait until we go home and have to face Mama and Daisy. Mama will probably whip me and lock you up in the corn crib. If we had a little money and a few groceries, we’d just leave the country and never come back. But we don’t have any money and I don’t think either one of us could do without something to eat for very long.”

  Rowdy seemed to understand what I had said because he stopped licking his wounds and looked toward the house. With a little whimper, he came over and started licking at the monkey bites on my hands.

  I patted him on the head and said, “You’d better take care of yourself, boy. You’re in worse shape than I am.”

  The more I thought about going home, the more I dreaded it. I thought about going to the store and seeing if Grandpa could help me in some way, but that wouldn’t have done any good. Sooner or later, I would still have to go home.

  “Well, Rowdy,” I said, “I guess there’s not but one thing we can do. We’ll just have to take what’s coming to us and that’s all there is to it. But I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

  I could tell by the way Rowdy’s tail dropped down between his legs that he didn’t like it either.

  eight

  Daisy must have seen Rowdy and me coming up through our fields because she was standing on the porch when we came walking up. With a frown on her face, she peered at us.

  Letting out a low whistle, she said, “Holy smokes, Jay Berry, what happened to you and Rowdy? Both of you look like you’ve been run through a brier patch.”

  “Aw, Daisy,” I said, “didn’t anything happen to us. We just had a little fight with those monkeys and they bit us a few times. That’s all.”

  “A few times!” Daisy said. “It doesn’t look like a few times to me. It looks like those monkeys just about ate you up this time.”

  Before I could say anything else, Daisy turned and hollered through the open door of the house, “Mama! Mama! Come and look at Jay Berry and Rowdy! They’re chewed all to pieces and there’s blood all over them.”

  This time, Mama must have been peeling potatoes when she heard Daisy yell because she still had one in her hand when she came flying out the door—scared half to death.

  “Blood!” Mama said in a quavering voice, looking at Daisy. “Who’s bleeding?”

  “Jay Berry and Rowdy, Mama!” Daisy said, as she pointed with her hand. “Look at them! They look like they’ve been run through a brier patch.”

  With more scare in her eyes than I had ever seen before, Mama looked at me and said, “Jay Berry, are you all right?”

  “Aw, Mama,” I said, “you know how Daisy is. She’s just trying to make something big out of nothing. I’m all right. I just got bit a few times by those monkeys—that’s all.”

  Looking up toward the heavens, Mama closed her eyes and muttered something that no one could have understood.

  Daisy came over, took hold of my arm, and started looking at my monkey bites. Shaking her head and making a little clicking noise with her tongue, she said, “Jay Berry, I’m scared. I’m scared half to death.”

  “Scared!” I said. “What are you scared of? The monkeys didn’t bite you.”

  “I don’t care,” Daisy said, “I’m scared just the same. We don’t know anything about monkeys. For all we know, they may have hydrophobia.”

  I wanted to say something but I couldn’t get my mouth open. My stomach got all knotted up and I shivered a little like I was having a cold chill. I looked to Mama for some help.

  Mama couldn’t help anyone right then because she was just as scared as I was. She just stood there, staring at me with her face as white as a hen’s egg. Her mouth opened and I thought she was going to say something but nothing came out.

  People in the Cherokee hills were so scared of hydrophobia they didn’t talk about it in loud voices. They usually spoke about it in whispers. When news spread through the hills that a mad animal was prowling, windows and doors were locked. Everywhere the menfolks went, they carried their shotguns and rifles. Until the mad animal was taken care of, children were kept indoors and all stock was brought into the barn lot.

  While hanging around my grandpa’s store, I had heard some weird tales about animals and people that had gone mad with hydrophobia. How they had frothed at the mouth and their eyes had turned as green as cucumbers. In the dark of night, they would prowl through the country howling and moaning; and biting everything that got close to them. It was enough to scare a fellow clean out of his britches.

  Daisy saw that she had me paralyzed with fear and she started carrying on again.

  “Mama, there’s not but one thing we can do,” she said. “We’ll just have to chain him and Rowdy to a fence post.”

  This seemed to shake some of the scare out of Mama. “Chain him to a fence post!” she said, in a loud voice. “Why, Daisy, what on earth are you saying?”

  “That’s all we can do, Mama,” Daisy said. “That’s all you can do with anything that’s going mad. You have to chain them to something and watch them. If their eyes turn green and they start foaming at the mouth and biting things, then you’ll know they’re mad. It wouldn’t do any good to tie him up with a rope. If he does go mad, he would gnaw right through a rope.”

  Daisy had me so scared by now that I could almost feel myself frothing at the mouth and snapping at everything that got close to me. I think I would have gone mad for sure if Papa hadn’t come walking up about that time.

  Frowning, Papa looked at Mama and said, “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Before Mama could say anything, Daisy popped up and said, “It’s Jay Berry again, Papa. He’s really got himself into a mess this time. He and Rowdy had a fight with those monkeys and got bitten all over. For all we know, they may have hydrophobia.”

  “Papa,” I cried, “they think I’m going mad, and they’re talking about chaining me to a fence post.”

  Papa chuckled and said, “Aw, I don’t think we’ll have to do anything like that. Those monkeys belong to a circus and came in contact with people every day. They’ve probably been vaccinated for all kinds of diseases. A big circus like that wouldn’t have taken a chance on having a bunch of sick monkeys around.”

  Papa didn’t know it, but he had practically brought me back from the grave. I began to feel a little better, but not very much.

  Regardless of what Papa had said, Daisy wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t going mad.

  “Just the same,” she said, “I’m not taking any chances. I’m going to keep my eye on him, and I’m locking the door to my room every night. If he does go mad, I don’t want him sneaking in and biting me.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mama said, “now that will be enough out of you, young lady. You shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

  Papa said, “I think the best thing to do right now is to get something on those monkey bites. They could get infected.”

  “I think so, too,” Mama said.

  Daisy said, “Mama, you doctor Jay Berry, and I’ll take care of Rowdy. He wouldn’t bite me even if he was going mad.”

  Mama went in the house and came back with some clean rags, a bottle of peroxide, and some iodine.

  Every time Mama dabbed one of the bites with peroxide I would have a dancing fit. But when she started putting that iodine on me, I yipped and hopped all over the place. By the time she was through, I felt like I had been boiled in a washpot.

  All the time Mama
was doctoring me, I could hear Daisy cooing and talking to Old Rowdy. He was whimpering and whining, and licking Daisy’s hands, and begging her not to put that stinging, burning stuff on him.

  Daisy was a little more artistic with her doctoring than Mama was. She wrapped Rowdy’s monkey bites with all kinds of bright-colored rags and tied them in bow knots. When she was through with him, he looked like a Christmas package.

  Rowdy took one look at himself and was so disgusted with what he saw he scooted under the house.

  I couldn’t help laughing a little.

  The next morning I was so sore and stiff I couldn’t get out of bed and make it to the breakfast table. I was lying there, feeling sorry for myself, and thinking about all that money down in the bottoms hopping around in those sycamore trees when Mama, Papa, and Daisy came into my room.

  Papa looked at me and asked, “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t feel so good, Papa,” I said. “I’m as sore and stiff as an old hound dog that has been chasing a fox all night.”

  Daisy giggled and said, “Jay Berry, if you think you’re in bad shape, you should see Old Rowdy. He’s so sore and stiff he can’t even wiggle his tail. He wouldn’t come out from under the house to eat his breakfast.”

  With a concerned look on her face, Mama reached over and placed her hand on my forehead.

  “Why, Jay Berry,” she said, “you have a little fever. I think you had better forget about this monkey catching and stay in bed for a few days.”

  The way I was feeling, I didn’t even argue with Mama.

  As if my getting eaten up by the monkeys was one of the most wonderful things that had ever happened in our family, Daisy squealed her delight and said, “Mama, if you’re going to make him stay in bed for a few days, then I’ll get to practice my Red Cross nursing on him again.”

  When I heard Daisy mention that Red Cross nursing business, I started getting out of bed.

  “Oh, no, you won’t,” I said, “you’re not practicing any of that stuff on me. I’m not sick enough to go through that again.”