Absence of the Hero (32 page)

“He's in the house somewhere. I've got things locked up so he can't get out.”

“I'm getting his ass out of here! We're harboring a wild animal! We're not equipped to do that! He has to go!”

“Oh, Harry,
please
! He's so
cute
! All he needs is love!”

“All he needs is a cage and a keeper!”

Ann got up and went to the bathroom. She closed the door. After a while he could hear Ann sobbing.

Harry walked to the door, spoke through it: “I'm sorry, Ann, I know that he has certain charming ways . . . but . . . he's destroying our lives! I have to get rid of him. . . .”

There was a wail from behind the door. It made Harry feel bad but he walked back to the bedroom, began dressing. First thing he had to do was find the monkey. Then he'd put him in that carrying-case they used when they took Redeye to the vet's. After he got him in there he'd phone Animal Control.

Harry went outside and got the carrying-case out of the garage. It was sturdy, built of plywood with large screen windows. It was big enough to carry Bozo. He brought it into the house, set it down in the kitchen.

Bozo was nowhere to be seen.

Harry found a couple of bananas.

“Bozo, baby, come on out from wherever you are! Come on and have your breakfast! Bozo! Nice bananas! Nice ripe bananas!”

Where was the son of a bitch?

Then he found him. He was asleep on top of the
TV
. He was like a little man covered with fur. There
was
some charm there, and a certain low-grade type of innocence.

Asleep like that, Bozo did score some points.

Harry walked up to him, touched him on the ear. Bozo opened one eye, looked at Harry. The monkey almost seemed to smile.

“How about a banana, boy?”

Bozo slowly sat up, got his haunches under him, then dangled his feet over the
TV
screen. He was still half asleep.

Harry peeled a banana.

“Come on, boy, have a bite. . . .”

Bozo took a small bite, chewed it down, scratched the back of his neck, and looked at Harry for more. Harry gave him the remainder of the banana. Then he peeled the second banana and fed it to him.

The monkey appeared to be quite relaxed.

“Bozo, come here to Papa. . . .”

Harry reached around and picked the animal up. Bozo's arms went around Harry's neck.

Harry walked the monkey slowly toward the kitchen, toward the carrying case.

Maybe we ought to keep him, Harry thought.

No, I've got to be strong. This is like something that came in the night to tear our hearts out. It can destroy our lives. It doesn't mean to, of course . . . but. . . .

He placed Bozo on the floor in front of the case. The door was open.

“Come on, Bozo . . . you just walk in there and look around. It's a little playhouse for you. . . . And we'll all be happier when you get in there . . . yeah. . . .”

Bozo stood there and looked at
the opening. He wasn't moving. . . .

Harry reached down to that red ugly ass and gave Bozo a gentle shove.

The monkey was almost in. . . .

“
NO, NO, BOZO
!
DON'T GO IN THERE
!
BOZO, RUN
!
BOZO, LOOK OUT
!
RUN
!”

It was Ann, standing behind them.

The monkey was startled. It twisted as if to leap away. . . .

Harry grabbed Bozo hard, he had him in his grip. He held him there. Bozo wiggled, kicked, screeched but Harry had him in a good hold.

Harry moved him gradually toward the door of the case. The monkey was strong and making a good fight of it but Harry was jamming him forward through the door. . . .

Then Ann had her arms about Harry's neck, pulling him backwards from Bozo. . . .

“
NO
!” she screeched, “
NO, NO, NO
!
HE
'
S NOT GOING IN THERE
!”

Then Harry was struggling with the monkey and with Ann.

He encircled Bozo with his left arm and fought Ann off with his right.

The monkey was wiggling free from his left arm and Harry relented from fighting Ann in order to get better control of Bozo.

Harry brought his right arm around, took his right hand and pushed against the animal's head, against the top of the head to push Bozo back down into the grip of his left arm which had been encircled about the waist but the monkey had wiggled upwards and almost out. . . .

In the struggle, Harry's right hand slipped from the top of Bozo's head and down the face, down to the nose, the mouth. . . .

The monkey bit through Harry's index finger . . . completely ripping through the finger and the bone. It sheared the finger off just below the knuckle.

Harry rolled to the floor . . .
YOWLING IN WORLD-ENDING TERROR AND PAIN 
. . . as the monkey ran out through the back door which had been left open. . . .

Bozo ran out into the world with the finger in his mouth. . . .

Harry sat on the floor, pressing his hand against his stomach.

“
GET A TOWEL
!
GET A TOWEL
!
GET SOME HYDROGEN PEROXIDE
!”

He inhaled heavily, exhaled.

“
CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE
!”

Then, curiously, the pain almost stopped. It just felt as if something were still taking small bites from the finger stub. There was an odd coldness too, as if the finger were in freezing weather, yet it throbbed.

Ann came running in from the bathroom with the materials, which included a small first-aid kit and the instruction booklet.

“
OH, MY GOD, HARRY, IT
'
S ALL MY FAULT, ALL MY FAULT
!
I LOVE YOU, HARRY, I LOVE YOU
!
OH, THAT STUPID MONKEY
!
WHAT HAVE I DONE
?”

“It's O.K., baby, don't blame yourself, it's just rotten luck. Here, give me some peroxide!”

Harry pulled the hand away from his shirt, looked at it a moment . . . so
odd
to see that missing part . . . and he doused the finger-stump with the peroxide.

“Give me some cotton, baby, and some bandage-wrap. . . .”

Harry felt fairly calm about it all and his mind asked him, why are you so calm about all this?

And then his mind answered, I don't know.

“Adhesive, please. . . .”

Harry bound the clumsy affair. . . .

“Scissors, please. . . .”

“
OH, HARRY. 
. . .”

“Phone for the ambulance,
Ann . . . I have to go to Emergency. . . .”

Ann moved toward the bedroom to get at the telephone. Harry ran past her toward the front door. . . .

“
HARRY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING
?”

“
I
'
VE
GOT TO GET THAT MONKEY, THAT MONKEY HAS MY FINGER
!”

“
HARRY, WHAT DO YOU MEAN
?”

He paused at the doorway.

“
THEY SAY THAT IF YOU CAN GET A PART BACK SOON ENOUGH THEY CAN SEW IT BACK ON
!”

Harry ran out into the yard.

“Bozo, baby, where are you, Bozo? I'm not mad, Bozo! Bozo, baby, come on, come on, plenty of bananas and you can ride the doggy, you can crap all over everywhere, I won't care. . . . Bozo, here Bozo!”

Harry ran about the yard searching . . . the blood was beginning to seep through his makeshift bandage. It was like a white mitten which was gradually turning red. The hand had stopped throbbing. The throbbing had gone up to his temples. . . .

Shit, he thought, maybe the son of a bitch has rabies. . . .

“Bozo, come on, Bozo, we all love you!”

The yard appeared to be vacant of the animal.

Harry hurried up the driveway, stood out front a moment, took a gamble and turned right, walked toward the Johnson house. Mrs. Johnson, a grey lady with a fat white face, thick legs, and eyes like faded pearl buttons, Mrs. Johnson just stood there watering her lawn. The water from the hose just arched out and splattered against the same area of grass. Mrs. Johnson was consumed with the sound and the action of the water.

“
MRS. JOHNSON
!”

“Oh, good morning, Mr. Evans. . . . Nice day, isn't it?”

“Mrs. Johnson, have you seen a monkey?”

“What?”

“Have you seen a monkey?”

“Oh, yes, I've seen them.”

“I mean, right now! Around here!
NOW
!”

“Why?”

“Why?
MRS. JOHNSON, THAT GODDAMNED MONKEY HAS MY FINGER
!”

“Please don't use vulgarity around me, Mr. Evans!”

“
OH, MY GOD
!”

Harry ran past her and down her driveway.

“Where are you going?”

She dropped her hose and ran after him.

“
YOU GET OUT OF MY YARD
!”

Harry ran about her yard, searching, searching. . . .

There was nothing.

He turned and ran back up the driveway past Mrs. Johnson.

“
I
'
M GOING TO TELL MY HUSBAND HOW RUDE YOU WERE TO ME
!
HE
'
LL KICK YOUR FRIGGING ASS
!”

My god, thought Harry, as he ran out of there, she didn't even notice my bloody hand. . . . Oh, it's useless, I'll never find that beast. . . . He's probably tossed my finger away by now . . . but I've got to keep looking . . . not much time left. . . .

He saw Ann standing in front of their house.

“
HARRY, I CALLED THE AMBULANCE
!
THEY
'
RE ON THE WAY
!”

“
THANKS, BABY, TELL THEM TO WAIT
!
I
'
LL BE RIGHT BACK
!”

“
I LOVE YOU, HARRY. . . . I
'
M
SO SORRY, OH MY GOD, I
'
M SO SORRY
!”

“
IT
'
S O.K., BABY, I
'
LL BE RIGHT BACK
!”

Harry ran further left down the block. He ran down the drive of the Henderson house. The hired yardman, a thin and rather contented fellow, was using his leaf-blower to clear away various debris. As Harry ran up the yardman saw this
thing
running toward him, this thing with a bloody white arm-end. He screamed, lifted the blower and shot a blast of air at Harry.

“Shit,” said Harry.

He turned and ran back up the driveway and out into the street.

He stood in the street center, looking about, thinking, I must be just about out of time on that finger.

Then, to the left, about a half a block down he saw a crowd gathered about an icecream truck. There were mostly children and a few adults.

And there on top of the icecream truck was some small type of creature.

Harry ran down the street.

When he got to the crowd, there was Bozo . . . just sitting on top of the ice cream truck.

And, hanging from the edge of his mouth was the end of Harry's index finger.

Bozo just sat there, almost in a dream-state.

“O.K.,” said Harry, “that's my monkey. Now, just stand back. . . . Don't frighten him, please. . . .”

“I'll give him my ice cream if he'll come down,” said a little boy with just a touch of snot dripping from his left nostril.

“Thank you, son, but please let me handle this. . . .”

“Hey, mister, what's that thing hanging out of his mouth?” asked a little girl.

“Never mind what that is. . . . Whatever it is, I want that and I want him. . . . All right?”

“Sure, mister. . . . How come your hand is all bloody?”