by J. Morgan
Taking one last look at the forest, she turned and almost fell over at the sight of Breathred's face squished against the window of the van. Was his lip glued to the window or what? Luna squinted a second time to make sure she wasn't seeing things. Yep, he was actually glued to the window.
Luna immediately looked around for Stud. This smacked of his devious mind. She was going to kill that primate. No, he was over talking to one of the Graduate Assistants. If this were one of his schemes, he'd be here to exploit it. For once, this one was all Breathred's faux pas.
Look at him. Wasn't that the cutest thing? He looked like a goldfish with his face all puckered like that. Luna fought the urge to make kissy faces at him. He wouldn't like it. She had better get over there and get him loose before Stud had a chance to see what was going on.
Luna meandered to the van nonchalantly. She poked her head over the top of the van. Having made sure the chimp was none the wiser, she bent down to talk to Breathred.
"Honey, are you okay?” Luna whispered into the glass.
"Meb lup dis froob,” he muttered in reply. His eyebrows rose dangerously on his forehead, making him look, like a frog through the frost-distorted glass.
"Give me a minute and I'll have you free,” Luna said, giving the glass a kiss where his lip was glued.
Luna rubbed the glass with her warm fingers until the frost was gone from the outside. Then, she cupped her hands over his lips and blew onto the glass. Within seconds it warmed enough for Breathred's lip to loosen from the window. It took relatively no time to slip free.
"Tank du,” he said. His lip was still numb and dry from the experience. He pointed toward the door handle. “Dud, tit de tilddoks."
"Sure thing, sugar,” Luna said, deciphering his new language. She popped the front door open and hit the button on the panel, opening his door for him.
"Me lib turts,” Breathred pouted, stretching his cramped limbs upon exiting the van. His fingers touched them tenderly to show where they hurt.
Luna couldn't help herself. She stood on tiptoe and kissed them, surprised to feel him return the lip embrace. She was more surprised to hear a low growl come from him. It was a low guttural sound, enough like a wolf's to send a shockwave down her spine.
Her eyes snapped open to find his staring into hers. They were his eyes but something else was behind them. They were wild, almost bestial. His sudden change frightened her, more so because it mirrored her own hidden thoughts than anything else. She seriously had to talk to her uncle when she got back to Seattle.
Luna was the first to back away. The gravel parking lot separated them by a few inches but it felt like miles, years—the time that existed between the kiss and the forever it promised. Luna sidled away, unsure of what had just happened. The sound of Stud yelling their names further pushed the distance between them. For the first time since they'd met, Luna was scared—scared of him, scared of the way she felt. Not saying a word, she turned and ran toward the yelling chimp.
Watching her go, a wave of shame washed over Breathred. Suddenly, he felt dirty all over. Breathred had never felt like that before, but he liked it. Liked the touch of her on him. The smell of her filling his nostrils was like the nectar from the gods, or the smell of freshly minted comic books. Breathred wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he might have just felt his testicles dropping.
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Twenty Three
Beware of locals; they can be even weirder than the usual crowd of creatures of the night.
As the day wore on, Stud grew tired of watching the pair of lovesick fools. Breathred kept to himself for the remainder of the day. He avoided even the most basic of eye contact with Luna. She did her best to do the same. Stud had noticed their comedic attempts at melodrama but kept his opinions to himself. It was no skin off his nose how humans preformed their mating rituals. If they wanted to ignore each other for a while, that was alright with him. All that kissy-kissy stuff was quite frankly making him sick to his stomach.
Not to say, Stud wasn't worried about the whole thing. Being lifted from his real family at an early age had traumatized him so that no amount of therapy could hope to correct it. After so much misery, the chimp found himself loath to lose the new family he was in the process of raising.
Stud's past wasn't even the real reason for his worry. To tell the God's honest truth, he put a lot of effort into training Breathred up and would hate to see the big goob blow it. Hell, he knew whatever the problem was it sure as hell wasn't Luna's fault. The girl wasn't the type to screw things up. Breathred, on the other hand, excelled in such things. If things weren't set right soon, he'd just have to see to matters himself. It wouldn't be all that hard. He'd got them this far, hadn't he? Right now, Stud had important things to do. Well not important, but anything was better than being a party to their adolescent mooning.
Stud skirted the brooding pair on his way to the team meeting. The guide from the Canadian Archeological Cultural Agency had just arrived to brief them on the do's and don'ts of their excursion. As if he was in the mood for another lecture.
As an advanced form of primate, and not some lowly human, Stud couldn't see the sense in sitting down for a prolonged speech guaranteed to bore him into a coma. Besides, apes didn't settle things in committee. They threw shit and screamed at each other until it was all over but the crying. Anything not settled by then, you ran off, like a scared hyena. It was a sight more civilized than anything the so-called human race had come up with in three thousand years.
Seeing as how he had given his word to behave as long as they were trapped in this Canadian wilderness, Stud would be a good little boy. All bets were off if he had to listen to the word ‘eh’ more times than was necessary in the course of a normal conversation. It wasn't that he was a cultural bigot. Unnecessary pauses during a conversation led to the eventual breakdown of the esoteric balance of harmony in the universe. Aside from that, it made his ass itch.
Stud glanced back. The morose twosome fell in behind him. Good, if he couldn't irritate on a grand scale, he could at the very least agitate them enough to hopefully make them forget this funk they were drowning in. If that was what love did to people, Stud was damn glad he hadn't found someone to pick the fleas off his back.
The cabin was cramped with all sixteen team members bunched together. He wormed his diminutive body through the mass of bodies and took a seat in the back row. Stud wasn't enthused to find eight more people crowded around the side wall. They smelled of bear funk, which made his sinuses do belly flops. From the looks of them, he guessed they must be the yokels Dr. Grayson said would be joining them as laborers. Man, and he thought Breathred's relatives looked inbred.
"Everyone, find a seat. Mr. Brogan will be here in a moment to brief us on the regulations set down by the Canadian government, so get ready to listen.” Dr. Grayson's eye automatically aimed toward Stud. “And no goofing off in back."
On the general principle of the matter Stud stuck his tongue out. Let her stick that in her snap, crackle, and pop. He may have to behave but wasn't dead.
Stud chuckled when he noticed Dr. Grayson was ignoring him. True, he was just trying to get her goat, but he had given his word to behave. Stud would too, as long as he could manage it before gagging on the boredom. By his watch that gave him about five minutes and thirty-seven seconds before blowing his internal Tourette's fuse to hell and back. Which for him would be a personal record. Almost.
The room grew quiet. Stud raised up in his seat trying to see what was causing it. Apparently, so was everyone else, because all he could see was the back of some lard-butt's head. Stud toyed with the idea of a Vulcan nerve pinch, but let it go. The last time he tried it Breathred voided his bladder, but didn't go to sleep. Damn, Leonard Nimoy's lying ass.
It wasn't long before the room again broke out in a wave of hushed mumbles. Stud still had no idea what the hell was going on. Saying to hell with it the chimp pushed his way through the seated throng. He made his
way to the front, paused briefly to shoot lard-butt a one-fingered hello. Hey, how good was he expected to be? A chimpanzee had his limits after all. He made it to the front, just as the Canadian official began to speak.
All right, for you purists out there I'm about to step outside the usual voice of this story. Sure some of you might say bad form or some such drivel. But, seeing as how I'm the monkey at the keyboard driving this thing, I figure I can pretty much do what I want. If stepping from a third person narrative to a first person one is my idea of telling the story, that's my prerogative, the Bobby Brown one, not the Brittany Skanks one.
But really, you would have had to see this guy in the flesh to understand why I'm doing this. I'm a good three foot nine in my bare feet and this freak of nature wasn't much taller than me. He was maybe five foot zero, even with his boots on. If that wasn't enough to make you think Darwin was on the right track, he looked more like an ape than I do.
And he was wearing flannel with thermals sticking out from the arms. My God, flannel. Could you ask for a more clichéd look? The hair. The guy's hair was sticking up like wings on either side of his head with the biggest pair of chops cropping his face I'd ever seen. The whole thing looked like somebody had, Something about Mary-ed his entire follicle system.
So basically, what we have here is a sawed off runt with bad hair and a flannel fetish. Did I forget to mention the cigar? Well, if I did, I'm sorry. He was chomping, not smoking, the biggest damn cigar I've ever seen. It was big enough to make White House interns run in fear.
Okay, I've said my piece so you all can return to the story and stop looking for my editor to hang for letting me get away with this. Oh, and get a life. If the worse thing you got to bitch about is the voice of a fricking book, consider yourself lucky. I'm due for my monthly flea dip, tomorrow. Top that, you silly bastards.
"The name is Brogan, bub. Not Mr. Brogan. Just, Brogan,” the little man began, drawing more than a few chuckles from the crowd. He snarled but went on. “It's my job to keep you alive and in one piece. Canada is more than hockey pucks and maple leaves. Half of what you'll find in the wilderness will kill you; the other half will make your pants go all squishy, if you know what I mean."
"Well, yes. Uh, Mm—” Dr. Grayson started to say. The man gave her a blood-curdling glare that stopped her in mid-mister. “I mean Brogan. I'm sure we all would love to hear more of your colorful anecdotes, but could you get straight to the regulations from CACA? The time is growing quite late, and I'm sure we'd all like to get settled in. It's been an extremely long trip."
"Sure thing, Toots. Here's the low-down. If I say it's all right, it's all right. If I tell you, no can do, you better stop before I rip your arms off. Is that clear enough for you?” Brogan grinned. “If not, I can draw some insightful diagrams to enlighten you."
Stud rocked back in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. Now this was a man after his own heart. The same family tree, from the looks of it, too.
"So if that's all wrapped up, what say me and you go grab a brew and think about some horizontal Macarena, good looking?” Brogan patted Dr. Grayson on the bottom.
"Mr. Brogan!” Dr. Grayson exclaimed in a high-pitched shriek. “That will be quite enough of your suggestions. Thank you very much."
"No offense intended, Sweet Cheeks. But I feel it only fair to tell you nine out of ten dental hygienists say I'm the best at what I do.” Brogan smirked.
"What about the tenth one?” Stud yelled out. He couldn't help himself. It was just too damn easy.
"His name was Bob,” Brogan snarled. He clearly wasn't in need of a straight man, nor did he want one, but what did Stud care?
"Bob what?” Stud yelled back. God, this was better than a triple banana frappe with a mocha twist. Just the look on ol’ Doc Grayson's face was enough to see him through many a cold night.
"Bob up and kiss my ass. Now, shut the hell up,” Brogan answered. He then turned to Dr. Grayson and snapped, “Could somebody tell that hairy-ass little kid to shut the hell up before I smack his momma blind for having relations with her brother?"
That was it. Sure a joke was a joke, but the freak has just gone too far. International relations be damned, that sawed-off shit-eater had pushed the limits of good taste. Anyway, his father was a third cousin at the very least. Okay, there was an off chance it was really his Uncle Herb, but the tests came back inconclusive.
"Look here, you maple-wrapped pygmy,” Stud growled, as he rushed the stage.
"Who, the hell, are you calling me a pigmy, monkey-butt?” Brogan growled back.
"Unless you got a mouse in your pocket, I guess we can narrow it down to you."
"Okay kid, I'm about five seconds from pulling down your Osh Goshes and teaching you some manners.” Brogan bent down to shove his cigar firmly under Stud's nose.
"That's it. Ain't no way in hell some Canuck shit-wad's gonna teach me manners. Hell, this country hasn't even learned what bacon looks like. Let's take this outside before the women folk see you get your ass handed to you,” Stud said, slapping the cigar straight up the Canadian's nose.
* * * *
Breathred was used to Stud's tantrums, so at first was not really all too concerned. Most people usually laughed at the chimp's rantings and left him to his own devices. From the looks of this hunk of meat, that wasn't going to be the case. Breathred made a beeline for the bristling pair. He cleared the circle of spectators to find Luna had beaten him there.
"Break it up, you two,” Luna ordered, pushing them apart.
"You the kid's momma?” Brogan asked, giving her more attention than Breathred thought decent, especially the roundy bits he, himself, did his best to ignore.
"No, I'm not. I'm his friend,” Luna said proudly.
"That's a relief ‘cause, if you were, I'd have to double up on my little soldier before we played sink the puck."
Before Breathred knew what was happening, he decked the man. Even decking didn't cover it. It was more correct to say he slammed his fist so hard into the man the guy rebounded off the back wall. It was a toss-up on who was more surprised—Breathred, Stud, Luna, or Brogan. The fact Breathred was drooling and couldn't stop looking at his balled up fist, made him the safe bet.
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Twenty Four
Sometimes you have to show the locals who's boss. Otherwise they'll walk all over you.
"You got knocked the fuck out!” Stud howled over the unconscious face of Brogan. “See I told you these Canucks were all talk, no action."
The chimp gasped, as the man's hand shot up and closed around his hairy throat. Through bulging eyes, he looked down to see the man wide awake with a grimace hard enough to crack marble. The man's fingers felt like corded steel, growing tighter with each passing second.
"Okay, Bub. The geek might have got in a cheap shot, but there ain't no chance in hell you're getting away,” Brogan promised, spitting a wad of cigar past the chimp's ear.
Stud saw only two ways out of this. Die with the dignity all primates were instinctively born with. The second way was much harder. Put up a fight to end all fights and leave this world like a man. Naturally Stud went with option one.
Brogan dangled the chimp above him, all set to give the beast a good and lasting throttle, when he felt a warm flood drench his chest and neck. Brogan scrambled to his feet, holding Stud well away from him. His faded flannel shirt was now a rich red it hadn't been in a long number of years. The acidic stench of chimpanzee pee permeated the air about them.
"You tinkled on me,” was all the burly man said.
Stud swung his body toward the man's face. “You know primates have two functional bladders."
Brogan dropped the chimp post-haste. Stud gave him a wink, backing the official up three steps to avoid the chances of another deluge. The ape may be small, but even toddlers shot for distance. Stud could tell the man wasn't sure if the chimp could back up his threat, and didn't look to be one to taking unnecessary chances.
"They do not. Stud, you behave or I'll stomp a mud-hole in you,” Luna warned the monkey.
"It was an accident. He scared me. He's just lucky I got rid of that breakfast burrito before we got here,” Stud whined.
"Mr. Brogan, I hope you'll accept my apologies. They assured me he was housebroken.” Dr. Grayson stepped in.
"Lady, a pissing monkey is one thing, but that S.O.B sucker-punched me.” Brogan's gnarled finger swept the room until it settled on the still-gibbering Breathred. “And this dog ain't taking that."
He took a step toward Breathred, who was still lost in his post-traumatic episode. Brogan got two feet before Luna stepped in his path. The man raised his hand to push her slightly to the left of center. Her eyes locked with his stopping him cold in his tracks. Something in the way she looked at him, made his blood run cold.
"I don't think you want to be doing that,” Luna said.
It wasn't anything Brogan could pinpoint, but he believed her. Taking a deep breath, the scent of the girl filled his sinuses. A faint hint of something rode the wave of air. It was a smell he knew from old. A smell he respected enough to give the girl space. There would be time to see to the boy, when the bit of fluff wasn't around to play bodyguard.
Luna held herself in place waiting for the little man to make his move. She saw the debate raging in his mind. She'd hate to back up that threat, but was willing to do it if he pushed her. After all, Breathred defended her. The least Luna could do was do the same for him.
A collective gasp filled the room when the man turned around and walked out the side door. Luna fell back. Dad-gum-it, that was close. She felt Stud's hand on hers, looked down and gave him a smile. Squeezing her hand, the chimp sat down. Luna dropped beside him. Neither noticed the rest of the room empty once it was clear there would be no fight.
"Uh, Luna. Thanks for, well ... you know,” Stud stammered.
"Forget it. That's what friends are for. Just don't let it happen again. The little guy's trouble in more ways than one,” Luna said, wondering just how much trouble he really was.