Summer of the Monkeys (18 page)

Papa sat down on my bed and said, “Suppose you start at the beginning, and tell me all about it. I’d like to know just what did go on down in those bottoms.”

I could always talk to Papa much better than I could to Mama. It seemed that he could understand me better. I figured it was because he, too, had once been a boy. I told Papa everything that had happened, but I was so ashamed about losing my britches, I didn’t look him in the eye while I was telling it.

Papa laughed and said, “To me it looks like that Jimbo monkey
wanted to get you and Rowdy drunk so he could steal your britches. What do you suppose he did with them?”

“I don’t know, Papa,” I said. “He could be wearing them for all I know. I wouldn’t put anything past that monkey.”

Papa said, “Well, I can’t see where there’s been too much harm done, but I don’t believe I’d tie into that sour mash any more. It might get to be a habit, and that’s not good at all.”

“Papa,” I said, “you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be drinking any more sour mash or any other kind of whiskey as long as I live. If drinking makes a fellow as sick as I am, I won’t ever drink it again. I mean that, too.”

Papa smiled and said, “You know, if a fellow can learn something through experience when he’s young, he doesn’t ever forget it.”

“I won’t ever forget this, Papa,” I said, “and if I ever get ahold of that Jimbo monkey he won’t forget it either.”

Papa laughed and said, “I’ve always figured that a man can do almost anything if he puts his mind to it and doesn’t ever give up.”

“I won’t ever give up,” I said. “I’ll catch that monkey if I have to chase him clear to Arkansas.”

Getting up from the bed, Papa looked at his watch and said, “Your mother and I are going to the store today. Is there anything you want me to tell your grandpa?”

“Just tell him that I’ll be up to see him in a day or two, and that we’ll have to figure out some other way to catch those monkeys.”

Papa smiled and said, “I don’t suppose you want me to tell him about how you lost your britches, do you?”

“Aw, I don’t care, Papa,” I said. “Mama will tell Grandma all about it, and she will tell Grandpa. As long as we keep it in the family, I don’t mind so much; but I sure wouldn’t want anyone else to know about it.”

Chuckling to himself, Papa left the room. It wasn’t long until I heard our old wagon leave and screech its way up the road.

I had just about dozed off when, to my surprise, Daisy came
into my room. She was all decked out in that silly-looking Red Cross uniform and was carrying a tray with a large bottle of castor oil and an empty water glass sitting on it. I could see that she had a book tucked under her arm.

I thought, “Oh, no! If she gives me a dose of castor oil, and then starts reading to me, I will surely die.”

It was the same old thing that I had gone through a hundred times. Smiling all over, Daisy said, “Good morning! And how is my patient this fine morning?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Daisy,” I said. “Please! I’m too sick to go through any Red Cross business this time. I don’t believe I could stand it. I thought that you went to the store with Mama and Papa. You always do. How come you didn’t go this time?”

“Oh, I wanted to go,” Daisy said. “I wanted to go very much; but, Jay Berry, a good nurse never leaves a sick patient.”

“You didn’t have to stay here just because of me,” I said. “I’m not that sick. I never will be that sick.”

For all the attention Daisy paid to my protests, I may as well have been talking to a post oak stump. Taking her thermometer, she started shaking it. I just groaned and crawled way down under the covers.

Daisy started pulling at the quilts, saying, “Jay Berry, you’re acting like a little baby. You sit up here now and let me examine you.”

“Go away!” I shouted. “I’ll be all right if you’ll just go away and leave me alone.”

For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then I heard Daisy say, “Well, it says in my nursing book that when a patient gets unruly, a nurse is supposed to be stern.”

Reaching down under the covers, Daisy grabbed a handful of my hair. I was squalling like a scared chicken as I was pulled to the head of my bed, and propped to a sitting position with a pillow.

“Now,” Daisy said, sticking the thermometer into my mouth, “if you’ll just be patient, this will be over in a few minutes.”

I was too sick to fight any more. “All right,” I mumbled. “If I die, it’ll be your fault.”

Daisy smiled and said, “Jay Berry, you won’t die. You may think you will, but you won’t. In a day or two, you’ll be as good as new, I hope.”

“You’re just saying that because you heard Papa say it,” I said.

“No, I’m not!” Daisy said. “I’m saying it because I’m a nurse, and nurses are supposed to cheer up their patients.”

I knew all too well that once Daisy had gotten into one of her Red Cross nursing spells, it was ridiculous to even think of trying to argue her out of it. So I just groaned, closed my eyes, and sat there while she looked me over.

Counting silently, Daisy took my pulse. Then she looked at my eyeballs, felt of my brow, and tapped around on me with her fingers. She even laid her ear on my chest and listened to my heart beat. From the expression on her face, I seemed to be in pretty good shape until she took the thermometer from my mouth and looked at it.

Frowning and letting out a low whistle, Daisy said, “Boy, Jay Berry, you have a fever. Why, it almost busted this thermometer.”

This scared me a little. I knew that I was sick, but I didn’t think that I was sick enough to bust a thermometer.

Daisy said, “Let me see your tongue.”

By this time, I was getting a little bit on the nervous side. Without any protest, I stuck my tongue out as far as I could.

Daisy looked at it, and making a sour face she said, “Yuck! Jay Berry, your tongue is so coated, it looks just like the inside of Papa’s shaving mug.”

This really shook me up.

“Is that bad?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s not too bad,” Daisy said, “but it’s bad enough. I think I know what’s causing it.”

“You do!” I said. “What’s causing it?”

Daisy said, “Remember what Papa said about your stomach being full of that old sour mash. As long as it’s in there, you’ll just stay sick, and your tongue will be coated.”

“Daisy,” I said, “I’m sick all over but it’s not my tongue that’s sick. What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said as she reached over and picked up the book she had brought with her when she came into my room.

I saw that it was her nursing book.

Daisy wet her thumb on her tongue and started thumbing through the pages.

“Jay Berry,” she said, “I don’t know a thing about doctoring a drunk. I’ve looked all through my nursing book and can’t find anything that tells me how. But I know that somewhere in here, I’ve read where it does tell how to keep a patient’s tongue from being coated.”

“Daisy,” I said, “you don’t think that I’m a drunk, do you? Just because I got drunk once, doesn’t mean that I’m a drunk, does it?”

“I’m not too sure about that,” Daisy said, still turning pages and not looking at me. “From what I’ve heard and read that’s the way drunkards get started. They have one drink and then they have to have another one, and another, and another. And pretty soon they’re drinking it by the barrel.”

“Daisy,” I said, very seriously, “if I live through this, you won’t have to worry about me ever drinking any more mash or whiskey. I promise that. Why, I’ll even cross my heart and hope to die.”

With a very sad look on her face, Daisy said, “I hope not, Jay Berry. I sure would hate for us to grow up and have people see you staggering down the street and say, ‘That’s that old drunkard, Jay Berry Lee. He’s Daisy Lee’s brother.’ I don’t believe I could stand that. I just wouldn’t put up with it. I’d tell people that I didn’t even know you.”

“Aw, Daisy,” I cried, “I’m so sick now, I’m not an inch from the grave and you keep talking about all of those old bad things. I
thought you said that nurses were supposed to cheer up their patients, not bury them.”

Just then Daisy’s face lit up and she said, “Ah, here it is.”

She sat down on the foot of my bed and started reading in silence. Finally, after what seemed like a week to me, Daisy sighed, closed her book, and said, “Jay Berry, I think what you need is a big dose of castor oil.”

I always did think that the very thought of castor oil was enough to make a buzzard sick. “Castor oil!” I said. “Why, Daisy, I couldn’t take any of that nasty stuff. All you think about is castor oil. If I even mash my finger, the first thing you do is grab that old castor oil bottle.”

“Aw, Jay Berry,” Daisy said, taking the stopper from the bottle, “castor oil isn’t hard to take. If you just close your eyes and swallow, you can’t even taste it.”

“I can taste the darn stuff,” I said. “I can taste it even before I take it.”

Holding the bottle about a foot above the glass, Daisy started pouring. The very sight of that slick, slimy-looking stuff gurgling down into the glass was more than my poor old sick stomach could bear. I jumped out of bed, flew to a window, and threw up all over the place.

As I was crawling back into bed, Daisy giggled and said, “Jay Berry, I’m a much better nurse than you think I am. I knew that I’d have trouble getting you to take castor oil, so I did the next best thing. I just let you see some of it. I figured if you saw some of it that would be enough to get you to rid yourself of that old sour mash. It sure worked, didn’t it? I bet you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am,” I said, “but if you really want to do something for me, go and bring me about a gallon of good cool water.”

Daisy giggled and said, “Aw, Jay Berry, you couldn’t drink a gallon of water, could you?”

“You just think I couldn’t,” I said. “I believe that I could drink ten gallons.”

“Well,” Daisy said, “if you think that you can drink that much water, there’s no use in bringing it in a glass. I’ll just bring the water bucket.”

That’s what she did, and stood there watching while I drank three dippers of water.

“Boy,” Daisy said, “if you and Rowdy keep drinking water like that, we’ll be lucky if we have any left around here.”

“How is Rowdy getting along?” I asked.

Daisy frowned and said, “I don’t know how he’s getting along. He won’t let me get close to him.”

Surprised at this, I said, “Won’t let you get close to him? What’s the matter with him?”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said. “He went out to the barn lot and dug him a deep hole down in that damp ground under the watering trough. About every ten minutes he crawls out of his hole, rears up on the trough, and drinks water. Every time I go out there to see about him, he growls and shows his teeth. I can’t get close to him.”

“Did you have that nurse’s uniform on when you went out to see about him?” I asked.

“Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “a nurse always has her uniform on when she’s doing her work. You should know that much.”

I laughed and laughed even if it did hurt my old head.

“Daisy,” I said, “Rowdy is no fool. He knows what that uniform means as much as I do. He’s sick and he doesn’t want you messing with him.”

“I don’t care,” Daisy said. “I’m going out there one more time and if he growls at me, I’m going to take a bucket and fill that hole full of water with him in it.”

“You’d better not,” I said. “He’s liable to chase you up a tree.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long until I heard a big racket out in the
barn lot. Rowdy was barking and whimpering, and Daisy was yelling and scolding.

Pretty soon everything quieted down and I knew that Old Rowdy had been overpowered and was getting the Red Cross treatment. I felt sorry for my old dog, but there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do about it. I just pulled the covers up over my head and went to sleep.

Papa was right when he said that in a day or two I’d be as good as new. On the morning of the second day, I crawled out of bed feeling almost like my old self again. Oh, I was still a little nervous and a bit wobbly on my feet, but otherwise I felt pretty good.

As I walked into the kitchen, the family was just sitting down to the breakfast table. Papa and Daisy started whooping and clapping their hands like they hadn’t seen me for ten years.

I knew they were kidding me so I grinned, sat down, and helped myself to a double portion of everything on the table.

Eyeing my loaded plate, Papa smiled and said, “When a fellow starts eating like that, he sure isn’t sick.”

“Oh, I feel pretty good now, Papa,” I said.

Right away Mama started laying the law down to me about my drinking. She told me that if I ever did anything like that again I could just pack my clothes and leave, and I could take that drunken old hound dog with me when I left.

Daisy giggled and said, “Mama, if Jay Berry does leave home, he won’t have to do much packing. Those monkeys got away with about everything he owns. Why, they even got away with his britches this time.”

I wanted to argue with Mama and Daisy but I realized that I didn’t have a leg to stand on. So I just sat there, mad all over, hating monkeys, and more determined than ever to catch every last one of them if it took me until Gabriel blew his horn.

Mama said, “I guess I’ll have to stop my work and make you another pair of britches.”

Papa laughed and said, “It looks like I’m going to be minus another pair of my overalls.”

Overalls in our family really got a good wearing out. Mama made mine from the backs of the ones that Papa wore. Papa wore out the front and I wore out the back.

“Jay Berry,” Daisy said, “Old Rowdy’s in pretty good shape now. I finally got him to drink some warm milk and I gave him a good cold bath in the watering trough.”

As soon as I had eaten my breakfast, I went out to the barn lot and sure enough there was Rowdy just lying on the ground and looking as if he didn’t have a friend left in the world.

I walked over and patted my old dog on his head, and said, “I know how you feel, boy. In fact, I don’t see how you made it with Daisy messing with you.”

Rowdy was so sad he wouldn’t even wag his tail.