* * * * *
When he got back to the vet hospital, Sturm’s truck was parked out front. Frank swore, and fumbled under the seat for the bottle as he pulled around back to stash the car in its usual hiding spot in the barn.
He took a few strong gulps of rum, opened door to the aisle that ran through the center of the barn and found Sturm and Theo looking at the monkeys. Frank had gotten sick and tired of listening the monkey’s screeching and chattering all night every night, so he and Pine had lined the stall next to the rhino in yet more chicken wire. They sawed off a few thick limbs from the eucalyptus trees out back and nailed them crossways in the cage, giving the monkeys something to climb and hang off.
“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna make it today,” Sturm said. The blisters on his shoulders had deflated into slackened bubbles of dead skin.
Frank started to explain how he had nearly fallen asleep at the wheel, but Sturm cut him off. “Hope it doesn’t happen again. These animals need you to look after ’em. That’s what I’m paying you for, let’s not forget that. Understood?”
Frank nodded.
“Good. Okay then,” Sturm clapped his hands together and the monkeys jumped and scolded him in chittering screeches that echoed throughout the barn. Theo laughed and clapped his own hands. The monkeys flinched the first few times, but then got used to the sound. Theo took to kicking the wire to get a reaction from the monkeys. The rhino ignored them and calmly dragged more alfalfa through the bars of its feeder.
“Pick out a wild one,” Sturm told his son. “We want one that’ll give ’em a good run for their money.”
“That one. The big one, up on top,” Theo said, pointing and grinning, like he was choosing some exotic new toy.
Sturm turned to Frank. “Get it on out of there, then.”
Frank got a scoop of dry dog food, undid the cage latch, and cracked the door open just enough to fit his arm and the scoop inside. He dumped the dog food into the trough and waited until all the monkeys had swarmed over the trough. From the far cupboard, he grabbed an apple and sliced it into wedges with Sturm’s pocket knife. Sifting through the jumping mass of black fur, he found the big spider monkey Theo had pointed out, and carefully nudged it out of the rest of the pack with the toe of his boot. He kneeled quickly, bringing one of the apple wedges up the monkey’s face, instantly catching its attention. The furrowed brows popped open in excitement and the monkey snatched the wedge from Frank’s hand. It attacked the sweet white flesh like a wood chipper going after Styrofoam. Frank didn’t waste time; the other monkeys were clambering over him, reaching for the rest of the apple. He tossed most of the pieces into the corner to distract them, and grabbed the big monkey by the scruff of the neck.
He carried it outside, following Sturm and Theo. The monkey, fifteen pounds of sinuous, snake-like muscles, twisted and squirmed in Frank’s hands, rolling its head and reaching for his arm with all four limbs as well as its tail. He gave it another apple wedge to keep it quiet.
Sturm had a wooden kitchen chair waiting on the lawn in the sun. Theo carried his father’s heavy red toolbox from the back of the pickup over to the chair and thunked it down in the dry grass. He pulled a roll of twine from the toolbox and tied one end to the back of the chair. Looking up at Frank, he said, “Any day now.”
“What’s the plan here?” Frank asked.
“We’re gonna make this monkey famous,” Sturm said, fiddling with Theo’s digital camera.
“Let’s go,” Theo snapped. “Hold it on the chair.”
“You’re just taking a picture?” Frank asked.
“What the hell else are we gonna do with it? Play checkers?”
“Knock it off,” Sturm said. “Let’s get this done. We still have tents to set up and a thousand other goddamn little things.”
Frank could feel his insides clenching up as if he was afraid something might break loose and come washing down the insides of his thighs, blood pooling in his boots, but he knelt down and held the monkey on the chair. His scalp hurt, and he realized that the top of his shaved head was sunburnt. Theo looped the twine around the monkey’s right arm and cinched it down tight to a chair leg.
The monkey made a sound like a cat in a pneumatic press, sending ice picks marching up Frank’s spine.
Theo didn’t pay any attention; he yanked the twine tight across the monkey’s chest, tying it against the back of the chair. He repeated the process with the monkey’s left arm, then criss-crossed the twine back and forth, securing the screaming, wriggling animal to the chair.
Theo grabbed a pair of ring pliers from the toolbox and a length of copper wire. “Which ear, dad?”
“Both. Easier to spot.”
Theo threaded the wire into the pliers, positioned the pinchers over the monkey’s right earlobe, and squeezed. The monkey, now the owner of a bright copper earring, shrieked and bucked against the twine, but couldn’t move much; Theo had tied it down tight. After a moment, though, the monkey calmed down a little, just shaking its head violently back and forth, as if trying to dislodge a bug in its ear. Theo threaded another length of copper wire into the pliers and pierced the monkey’s other ear.
Frank went to untie the monkey, but Theo stopped him with, “Slow down—we’re not done yet.” He stepped back, eyeballing his work. “Dunno how we’re gonna get that vest on—we’d have to untie it,” he called to his father.
“Hell with it, then. Just get the hat and boots.”
Theo ran to the truck, came back with an old-fashioned bowler hat and a pair of children’s cowboy boots. The monkey hissed at him when he tried to slide the boots over the long, finger-like toes. Theo just got hold of one of the new earrings and yanked upwards, saying, “Sit still, you little fucker. Sit!” He eventually got the boots over the monkey’s feet, although one was on sideways. He jammed the bowler hat down over the monkey’s skull, down to its eyes.
It glared out from under the short brim, fingers waggling like a bug’s legs, tail whipping back and forth, and made worried chirps.
Sturm stepped closer, squinting into the viewfinder. He bent over, lowering the camera to get it level with the monkey’s head. He rocked back and forth like a cobra for a few moments, trying to get the best angle. Finally, he said, “Say cheese,” and took the picture. “You can put him back now,” he said to Frank.
Frank took off the hat, the boots, got a good hold of the scruff of the monkey’s neck like a wild cat, and broke the twine. After unwrapping the rest of the twine, Frank carried the monkey back to the cage. The monkey tried pulling on the copper rings, but quickly gave up when it discovered that they caused pain. After a few seconds, it seemed to have forgotten about them altogether and went scurrying up into the eucalyptus branches where it loudly warned Frank that he’d best not mess with it again.
* * * * *
When Frank got back out to the lawn, Sturm said, “Let’s go see my girls.” Frank followed him inside, leaving Theo to pack up the toolbox and chair.
Over fifty pounds of ground lamb had been thawing in the refrigerator. Each lioness required at least eleven pounds of fresh meat a day. Frank unwrapped each five-pound brick and dumped equal amounts of the pale meat into five gallon-buckets and carried them out to the lioness cages. Sturm knelt in front of his two lionesses, murmuring to them, curling his fingers through the diagonal openings in the wire.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Frank warned. “They’ll take your fingers off if they want.”
“Not my girls. Oh no. They’re good girls, aren’t you?” Sturm whispered to the lionesses. They regarded him with half-lidded eyes, tails sluggishly flopping about, slapping unenthusiastically at flies.