Monkey Business by John R. Erickson Read Free Book Online

governing my unruly kingdom, and returned to my . . .
    The monkey was sitting on my throne. And grinning.
    â€œGet off my throne, you flea-bitten circus clown, and don’t go near it again! For that, We command you to slap yourself three times and stand in the corner until We have taken our royal nap.”
    That was more like it. He slapped himself three times on the face and placed his nose in the corner of the northeast angle-iron leg of the gas tanks.
    We fluffed up Our gunnysack, walked around it in a tight circle, and flopped down. Oh, wonderful gunnysack! Oh, delicious sleep!
    I stretched out, wiggled around until I found a comfortable spot and had all four paws sticking up in the air, closed my eyes, and began drifting off . . .
    Ah, sweet Beulah, of the flaxen hair and soft brown eyes! Collie girl of my dreams, love of my life, giver of all good things, source of inspiration and happiness!
    I glimpsed her in the distance, in the fog, in the foggy distance. I could see the longing in her eyes. I called her name and she called mine. We ran toward each other, our hearts aflame, but the fog rolled between us.
    â€œBeulah!”
    â€œHank!”
    â€œOh, Beulah!”
    â€œOh, Hank!”
    â€œOh, Beulah, oh!”
    â€œOh, Hank, oh!”
    And just then, I heard music. A song, in fact. It went like this.
    I Can See You Now
    I can see you now, just the way you were when daylight found you.
    I can see you now, with the morning’s golden glory all around you.
    I can see the wind’s soft fingers running through your hair,
    The amber light reflected in your eyes.
    I can see the fields of flowers like a rainbow
    Splashed across the earth and stretching to the skies.
    I can see you now, just the way you were when evening found you.
    I can see you now, with the purple shadows falling all around you.
    I can see the wind’s cool fingers running through your hair,
    And evening stars reflected in your eyes.
    I can see bright colors fading all around you,
    As night’s blue velvet veil is drawn across the skies.
    I can see you now, just the way you were when darkness found you.
    I can see you now, but the memory starts to fade as night surrounds you.
    I can hear you calling to me in the darkness,
    I hear the words but don’t know what they mean.
    I can see stars in your eyes like burning embers,
    But just before the dawn, I wake and it’s a dream.
    I see you now.
    I see you now.
    I see you now.

Chapter Eight: The Pasha of Shizzam

    I t was, to say the least, a bittersweet dream, which sort of describes the way things have gone with Beulah from the very beginning. If that bird dog would just go away . . . oh well. I don’t want to get started on Plato.
    Except to say that any dog who chases birds can’t be very smart, and any woman who chases bird dogs, when she could have a brave, magnificent Great Grand Potentate cowdog for the same price, is walking the fine line between poor taste and terrible judgment.
    But I don’t want to get started on that. There’s no rational explanation for it, that’s what torques me about the whole thing. I mean, is there anything dumber or less significant than pointing birds? Who cares about birds? If you’re going to point something, point something that matters. That’s what I always say.
    But never mind. I can’t be bothered . . . what is it about that stupid, spotted, stick-tailed bird dog that holds her interest day after day, week after week, and month after month? It’s outrageous.
    But the important point to remember in all this is that I really don’t care . There are other women in the world, hundreds of them, thousands of them, and if she wants to go chasing after a stupid . . . phooey!
    Nevertheless, it was a wonderful dream, in a painful sort of way, and I wouldn’t have minded running it over and over through the entire afternoon and into the evening hours. But that wasn’t to be. Drover, the little