By Joris Hines 5-3-04
You remind me of a young macaque I dated in the late 60's, named Loretta. Listen, if you don�t want to hear this say so. Well then, shut up and listen. She danced nude with her blonde fur flowing and loved it when I spanked her gently in the noonday sun. Once, disheveled from some randy lovemaking, she bit me on the chin� a trickle of blood running down my throat, she began to laugh like a mad woman does when she loses all control. I left her there drooling all over her torn blouse. It hurt considerably but I knew she wasn't the only macaque in the sea. Besides, I�d heard the stories about her and the marmoset twins. Kinky.
Days later I cried, staring at her photograph as the rain drizzled on my front porch. The moon broke through the bleak night clouds, slipping through the slats of the cottage shutters and shone on her smiling image... I wanted her. It's not often a macaque tears your heart out like that. Two bottles of wine later I took a walk out into the cool night air, just needing to get away from her image for a spell. Then before my eyes she stood there with Nelson, him holding her close in a passionate embrace. Two shots rang out into the once silent, wet darkness, and they lay at my feet, Nelson twitching and gasping for his last breath, his life-blood oozing from a gaping chest wound. It was then I realized I was holding the gun. Loretta was gone and I was drunk. What a night. I walked on into the blinding darkness of jungle, rubbing my forehead, looking for her sister, Margie. I'd run out of smokes an hour ago and was feeling nervous, needed a stiff drink to get me back to my senses.
I pulled a banana from its bunch as I passed the northern grove, stepping into the open meadow, and turned at the date palms by the stream that led to Margie's tree. I had a terrible feeling that she'd already left, as she always took her three o'clock stroll into the mangroves, to get to the caves at Forgren Hills by dawn and pick mushrooms. As I approached her tree I could see I was right, she wasn't home. The candle was out and the door latched tightly. Damn it all. I lost Loretta, and now Margie was gone. I saw Grant sleeping by the log pile, snoring as usual. I kicked him in the leg and woke him up. He seemed annoyed, but sat up and asked what I wanted. I took a smoke from his shirt pocket and struck a match on my belt buckle. He'd been drinking again, as usual, and I could see it in his eyes. An empty cask of rum lay beside him and he smiled with a curious grin like he was having fun, but I knew it was his stupor. He was shit-faced and making no sense, so I took his smokes and left. Dumb-ass baboon.
I took off toward the caves hoping to catch up to Margie, but I didn't know how I would explain her sisters death. Margie and Loretta weren't really sisters, but they'd lived together for so long that everyone thought they were, and they looked alike, in the face anyway. Except Margie had fuller lips... you know, the kind you want to slip something between. They curled up slightly at the ends and she always wore the darkest red lipstick. But she had an ass that never ended. If she stood next to my Cadillac you couldn't tell them apart... I'd get my key halfway up her ass before I'd realize it wasn't the trunk of my car. But she was a sweetheart, and she had a thing for me though she never let on because she didn't want to hurt Loretta. I had a feeling she'd want to rip me apart when she heard about Loretta, though, and started to wonder if I should wait till morning to tell her.
I stepped in some kind of cat shit, probably Jake the leopards, but there was a puddle a few steps away so I scrubbed it off. While I was kneeling there, I heard a commotion in the bushes behind me. I slipped back into the shadows to see who was coming. It was Dirk. He was in a hurry and looked tired from running. I stood and met him in the opening and asked what his hurry was about, and he said he'd found Nelson's body lying in a pool of blood and was on his way to tell his brother, Harry. I told him to calm down and explained it all to him. He couldn't understand why I would do such a thing, so I told him to just go home, that I'd take care of it in the morning. First he hesitated a bit, but Dirk always looked up to me, so he finally agreed and walked toward his den to call it a night. Those little lemurs always looked up to me... I guess it's because they're so short. But Dirk and I went way back, and I knew I could trust him. I wondered why he never mentioned Loretta though. Strange. Hey, are you still paying attention? Good.
I walked a bit further and stopped for a drink by the rock spring, and feeling a little tired I took off my clothes and slipped in for a dip. I was only there a minute or two when out walked Loretta! I nearly flipped! Stammering for words I asked how she could be alive, and she asked what I was talking about, as she took off her dress and slipped in beside me. It was one of those moments when you think you must be dreaming, but the water was wet, I felt cold, and she was naked and looking like a piece of fresh fruit, waiting to be plucked. While I plucked her for all I was worth, she insisted on knowing what I meant about her being alive, so I told her I'd shot her just an hour or so ago. Funny, she didn't feel dead at all. She suddenly realized it was me who shot Nelson, and she told me he'd tried to rape her just before she fainted after seeing him fall dead from a shot to the chest, never realizing it was me who pulled the trigger. She acted so nonchalant about it I figured I didn't have to worry anymore. Besides, there was no law in the jungle, just survival. And Nelson failed that test miserably.
Continued some day�
