The Mandrill

I first noticed the baboon on my drive home. He, or she for that matter, would be sitting just inside the trees along the road. I realized after a couple days of this, that the baboon was sitting there looking down the road, and as I would drive past he or she would turn her head and watch me. I wondered about her and thought that she should be travelling in a pack. What did I know about baboons? I didn’t think that baboons lived in this part of the country, but then again, I didn’t know exactly where they were supposed to live.

A couple weeks later I saw him from quite a ways down the road, and I watched many cars drive past him. He ignored them. As I was driving past watching him watch me, just as I was thinking to myself, he is waiting for me, he threw a rock at my car. That fucking monkey threw a goddamn rock at my car. It couldn’t be bigger then a golf ball, but I heard it click off the passenger-side door. In the rear-view mirror I watched her disappear into the trees. I drove on cussing. When I got home I got out and looked at the small nick in the blue paint.

Steaming, I walked into the house and dialed half of the number to my insurance company. What was I going to tell them? There was a baboon along the side of the road and he was waiting for me so he could throw a rock before running into the woods.

I didn’t see the baboon for many weeks after that. I didn’t know what I would do when or if I did see him again. Would he throw a larger rock next time? Maybe someone had him picked up by animal control.

It was three weeks later when I saw her walking along the highway. I pulled up right behind that bright red chapped ass waddling up the side of the road. I hopped out of the car and yelled at the animal. I stomped up behind the baboon. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to kick his ass. Was this a boy or a girl anyway? Which one has the huge red ass?

The pain was more then I thought I could handle. I was actually proud of myself that I didn’t pass out. I remember seeing the giant yellow teeth and wondering why she wasn’t bothering to just bite me and get it over with. I’m pretty sure she could break my neck with that jaw.

Instead she jumped on me and squeezed me until rib after rib bent and cracked. She broke any appendage I threw at her. I was screaming in agony and shame at my new jello limbs when I noticed there was a car coming up the highway. These people will save me. I will be saved. I smiled. I think I smiled. My lip was split, and when I smiled, I felt a tooth come loose and rest in the back of my throat.

The mandrill glanced for a moment at the car. You are dead, you stupid baboon. Never fuck with someone’s car. Lesson dismissed. He grabbed me quickly around the ribs, I screamed. He held my other hand up with his own, and he began to spin me. I tried to get loose but he held me like a pissed off lover. He spun me around as the car drove past. It was a green station wagon. As they drove past I just had time to see a lady driving two kids in the back seat. They were smiling and giving me a thumbs up. He’s dancing with me. I realized with a nervous laugh that sounded more like a cry. This motherfucker is dancing with me and everyone is just driving past, entertained. Enter-tained. I thought again crying. This baboon is fucking genius. Once the car was gone the baboon stopped dancing and he just looked at me. I stared in terror into those blank round eyes. They were so close together on his face, making her look more like a toy. We just stared at each other for a moment.

The baboon opened his mouth and filled my face with his loud yell. Although they were slightly yellow, I couldn’t help but notice his teeth were in great shape. This animal is going to kill me. The noise seemed to infect all the small cuts and abrasions on my face. The breath was pleasant. Other then the teeth, his mouth, tongue and throat actually reminded me of the soft pink flesh that is always a gift. I am going to die thinking of pussy.

After the yelling was over the baboon continued to unleash her rage upon my arms and legs. She screamed as she twisted my arms. I screamed as she twisted my arms. Anytime she released me I tried to run back to the car. Why did I get out of the car? Let me start again and I will just run this bastard over. I might make it two steps before she was on me again.

There were two other cars that drove past, and twice more we danced. The second car was a white minivan, the third I didn’t see. The mandrill had punched me in the windpipe right before the third car came by and I had my head tucked into his shoulder like the drunk you brought to the wedding. I think I had given up by the time I heard the third car honk as it drove past. My eyes were swelling shut and my ears were ringing. When she quit dancing with me the third time I fell to the ground.

I started to laugh. This really is a funny way to die. What was this animal anyway? Was the mandrill the one with the bright snout and ass? He stomped on my knee before sitting on my tenderized kidneys. I laughed again. I thought of Dawn. She used to get so frustrated with me because life was always so easy for me. A fist cracked into my shoulder blade knocking the wind out of me. “You never have to plan, things just fall into place for you don’t they? You get into trouble but you come out smelling like roses.” She was right. I pulled my arms up under my head. It is hard to laugh and gasp for breath at the same time, yet just the irony of that thought makes me laugh more. Life has been too easy for me. I felt my nose finally bust as the mandrill drove my head into the gravel aside the highway. That taste of dusty gravel blood. I guess this has been coming for a long time.

Cave Painting

The Dalai Lama and I were giggling in the dark,

painting crude pictures on the cave walls.

He holds the flashlight because he is too sensible to do the painting.

He loves to laugh, and we spend the day in the dark,

stomachs hurting and eyes watering.

In the dark, the true dark, he teaches me to meditate.

“We are here in the belly of our mother,”

returned to the dark deadly womb,

From whence we came so shall we return.

The darkness is a warm blanket.

There are no dimensions, it is everywhere and we are nowhere.

Our voices seem to disappear right out of our mouths,

like a chorus underwater.

I imagine it would bounce around like a laser in a house of mirrors, returning minutes later to scare us with it’s dusty alteration.

Instead it is muffled, swallowed up in the choking wool midnight.

There is a jellyfish bobbing through the darkness.

It glows pink pulses gliding through this nightmare shadow.

From it a thousand points of light are born, and the fish dissolves.

I lean back and laugh at the living disco ball cave.

The Dalai Lama is still speaking, though now I am sliding through the dust with my delicate brail antennae fingers.

They bounce and scan the texture with record needle softness.

Like fingertips across a breast, skimming the skin, preparing it for lips.

I am able to move through the cave with sticky fingers and toes.

The dimensionless dark becomes a world of bumps, dusty floors, and slick ceilings.

My eyelids grow closed and shrink from apathy.

Tactile vision

Fingers enlarge and I am able to know my location by the way my voice disappears. His voice appears.

These dusty dark caverns with sharp stone and absolute night are too concrete, too bedrock, cold and uninviting.

I can only smell earth, taste my own dry soil, touch stone.

In the darkness he becomes annoyed because I only dream of the female.

How do I get into so much trouble?