Tweety & the Monkey Man Read online

  “Oh, ha…ha. He’s saying, ‘Mine, mine.’”

  “That’s not what it sounds like.”

  “Really, that’s what it is. Gotta do better at teaching him how to share. Three-year-olds, you know.” I dumped the original ten dollars on the registration table plus an extra fifteen for being late, grabbed Daniel and his dirty clothes, and backed out the door.

  I gave Daniel a look. “Now you decide to talk?”

  Daniel snuggled to my shoulder and let out a gigantic banana burp. He fell asleep in the car seat on the way to the synagogue.

  Chapter Four

  “Rabbi Stein, how are you?” I gave the wizened old man a hug, once again wincing at how thin he was. “How’s your back?”

  “It is what it is.”

  “No, seriously, how is it?”

  “It hurts, Jess, but they give me drugs, and I don’t take them because they make my head fuzzy. What do the doctors know anyway?”

  “The doctors know you have severe spinal stenosis, Rabbi, and a bulging disc.”

  “Shush.” Rabbi Stein looked at me over his glasses. “Let’s chat.” He gave the snoozing Daniel a pat on the head and sat behind his desk, gesturing to a chair. “Tell me what is going on in your monster hunting world.”

  “I killed a phoenix last night.”

  The rabbi startled. “You killed one? I mean, it’s a miracle you got to see one. Are you sure?”

  “Big, colorful chicken? Bronze armor scales? Sharp, pointy teeth?”

  “Sounds correct.”

  “Then, yes. I thought they were supposed to be nice creatures. Not this guy, or was it a girl? I’m not sure. I didn’t get to look up its skirt.”

  “Let me see.” The rabbi did what came most naturally to learned scholars and searched for a book. “Can you get this one, Jessie dear? I can’t reach it.”

  I jumped up and grabbed the sliding library ladder, rolling it to where he was.

  “This one?”

  “The leather one.”

  “They’re almost all leather, Rabbi.”

  “The small one. No, an inch to the right. Yes, that one.”

  “How do you remember what’s here? There’s no system.” I climbed down from the ladder and handed the book to the rabbi.

  “Ach. It’s my system. I know. Sit.”

  The rabbi opened the book right to left, so I knew the book was in Hebrew. Or maybe Aramaic. The rabbi read a lot of languages. His body was frail, but his mind was sharp. He opened to a table of contents, ran his index finger down the page, and then flipped to a chapter. He read several paragraphs, rocking a little in his chair, his right hand pulling at his earlobe.

  “Rabbi?”

  He held up one finger. “Patience, please.”

  I bobbed my knees up and down and double checked my diaper bag to make sure I had snacks, which was completely unnecessary because I always packed snacks. They were a critical component of my arsenal. Daniel was going to be hungry when he woke up, especially since he’d lost most of his breakfast, and I wanted to head off a crying fit at the pass.

  The rabbi kept reading. I took a deep inhale and let it out with a whoosh.

  The rabbi ignored me, except for a single judgmental sniff.

  I counted to ten, then twenty. Then one hundred.

  “Rabbi?”

  The rabbi held up his finger again. “We do not rush such things.”

  “We do if…”

  The rabbi waved a hand, and I shut up. “Here it is. Shem, son of Noah, reported that the phoenix waited patiently on the Ark and didn’t bother Noah or his family about being fed, because the pair saw that the family struggled taking care of the other animals all day and night. For his patience, Noah blessed him to never die.”

  “I didn’t know that story, but I did have the general impression that they were good creatures, yet this one was insane.”

  “Tell me.”

  I related the story to Rabbi Stein, keeping an eye on Daniel, who was still asleep in the stroller next to me.

  The rabbi closed his eyes and listened. It was one of the things I loved about him. He listened with his whole body. If you were there in front of him, you had his complete attention, and he wanted nothing more than to know you and understand you.

  When I finished, he opened his eyes, a distant look on his face.

  “Rabbi?”

  “Let me get another book.”

  Rabbi Stein stood, and I pretended not to notice his wince of pain. I closed my eyes and listened to him talk to himself.

  “Where is it? Here? No.”

  He shifted to another section. “Maybe with the Rashi? Where is it? Commentaries? Mishnah? Ah! Here it is.”

  He tottered back to his desk and sat with a sigh, opening the book. This one was folio-sized, and he placed it on his desk.

  “There’s another story. The commentary says that after Eve ate from the apple, she gave all the other animals fruit from the Tree. The phoenix was the only animal to not eat the forbidden fruit and was blessed to never die.”

  “So, what does it mean?”

  “It means the phoenix is the pinnacle of the animal world and every other animal descends below it, more or less self-aware, more or less sophisticated in behavior. For example, chimpanzees use tools, but the praying mantis gets his head lopped off after procreation.”

  “Taxonomy.”

  “Yes, but bigger than that. What we might call the natural order of things.”

  “So, what does it mean when a phoenix goes rogue?”

  The rabbi rubbed his beard and gazed out the window. “I think it means the natural order has been disturbed.”

  “That can’t be good.”

  “No, my dear. I don’t think it is. My advice is to scrub through the news and find anything that refers to animals gone wild.”

  “Is that like ‘Girls Gone Wild’?” I said with a wink.

  The rabbi gave me a baleful look. “Seriously? To me? Your rabbi?”

  It made me sad, but I noticed that although he joked, he touched the framed photo of his late wife. I pretended not to see by readying myself to go, making sure the diaper bag was on the shelf beneath the stroller seat. I walked around the desk and gave the old man a kiss on his bald head. “You were once a young man. Come on, you’ve never seen a naked girl before?”

  Rabbi Stein’s eyes twinkled. “I have, my dear, but I prefer my women in my bed, not on my television.”

  “Rabbi!”

  Now, he winked. “I’m seventy. Not dead.”

  I stopped before leaving to ask one more question. “Rabbi, do you mind that I work for the Catholic Church?”

  The rabbi shook his head. “We’re all on one team. We bat for the same God, whatever we choose to call Him.”

  “Or Her.”

  “And Her, I think is a better way to say it.”

  “Do you mind that my best friend is a vampire?”

  Rabbi Stein was quiet. “He doesn’t kill?”

  “No, but he must drink to live. He’s learned to sip so he always leaves them alive, and he consumes bagged blood whenever possible.”

  “Honestly, Jess, I don’t understand why vampires exist, but I suppose humanity needs an apex predator, too. I don’t know. I’m still working on accepting that part of your life.”

  “I understand.” I did. Even I fretted about it sometimes, but then I remembered that it wasn’t Liam’s choice.

  Chapter Five

  That night, it really wasn’t his choice. We became friends after our initial encounter, and I agreed with Liam’s idea, which we put into effect the next day.

  Liam closed the coffee shop, we walked to my car, and I drove to the bus stop to let him off. He lived in Euclid and could take a bus home, but he didn’t live in the greatest neighborhood, and being a skinny white guy didn’t always play well in Cleveland’s tougher neighborhoods.

  He was right, too. I could feel someone watching us. My car was parked in the garage just across the street, and fo
r safety, I carried a whistle and a pocket knife, which I’d made a point of learning how to use by feel alone. I’d been hassled a few times, but nothing serious. The guy in my biology class who did everything possible to look down my shirt was more troublesome. Looking up my skirt wasn’t possible because I didn’t wear them. I was a jeans girl.

  But no one bothered us that night, and from then on, I drove him to the bus stop on nights he closed. Each time, although no one showed up, I sensed that someone was always watching. I carried a large backpack and decided the whistle and pocketknife weren’t enough, so I upgraded.

  We’d been doing this for three weeks when two men approached us, one African-American with a goatee and some serious muscles, and the other a middle-sized white dude wearing a bandana and a prominent belly, who copied everything his friend did.

  “Liam, I see you brought protection with you,” Goatee said, laughing. Bandana laughed as well.

  “Go away, guys. There’s nothing for you here,” I said, standing my ground. “We’re just waiting for the bus, no need to be assholes.”

  Liam mumbled something beside me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I placed my bag on a bench and opened the back pocket, keeping my right hand on the top strap.

  Goatee nudged Bandana, and Bandana took that to mean he should say something rude. “You’re a tiny thing, aren’tcha? Maybe you’d like to see my big thing right here?” He humped the air as if I needed a visual.

  “I’m sure you’d show me a great time, but with great regret, I have to decline.” Once again, Liam mumbled something, but I was staring at Bandana and paid no attention.

  Goatee folded his arms and studied at me. “You disrespecting my guy?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Sounds like you are.”

  “I’m not. I’m sure his dick is huge.”

  Liam stepped forward and stood in front of me, which took a lot of guts, and said, “Look, we don’t want any trouble. Leave us alone, okay? Big tough guys like you don’t need to bother with the likes of us. We’re not a challenge.”

  “Just lookin’ for a little money, man. We’re stuck out here in the freezing cold, no place to go. Doncha want to help a brother out? Doncha want to help yourselves out by giving us what we want?”

  Liam snickered. “It’s sixty degrees, and you don’t need money. You get off harassing people is all. You’re nothing more than a playground bully.”

  “I don’t bully, Ginger. I take.” Goatee jumped forward, swiping his right hand at his left wrist, drawing a knife that looked major cool, and I wanted to get a closer look, but I couldn’t focus on that because it was at Liam’s throat. First things first.

  This time, Liam spoke a little louder. “Jess, he has a knife.”

  “So do I,” I replied, pulling out my Fiskars X7 Nyglass/Fiberglass composite backpacker’s hatchet. Lightweight and unbreakable, I’d fallen in the love the second I saw it.

  “Shit, girl! Who goes around carrying an axe? You crazy. Mental.” Bandana was green around the gills because I swiped my pretty weapon in a clean arc down around the groin area. It made a fine swishing noise.

  “It’s a hatchet, not an axe, and this one has a great power-to-weight ratio, so if I chop with it, things are coming off. I like that knife you’ve got there. What is it?”

  Goatee stepped back, shaking his head as if to clear water in his ear. “Never mind, you guys aren’t worth our time.” They turned to go.

  Once again, the filter from my brain to my mouth shorted out, and I spoke at the worst possible moment.

  “Hey, you didn’t answer my knife question.”

  Goatee flipped around, charged at me, and put his knife to my throat. Finally, I could get a good look at it. “Is it one of the demon skull throwing knives? I saw them when I bought the hatchet. I might have to get me some.”

  He bore his weight onto me, and it dawned on me that I should act before he hurt me. My hatchet was still in my hand, but I’d lost rotating room, so I did the only thing I could. I jerked my wrist back and snapped it at whatever body part I could. The hatchet landed squarely in Goatee’s ass, and since it was so sharp, it went through his pants and into his derriere like buttah.

  Goatee howled, and Bandana jumped in, pulling his friend away from me. Goatee was holding his butt as blood gushed down his pants, screaming at me.

  “You bitch! Get her, Curt!”

  Curt came in for the kill, but I was hyped now. I drew back the hatchet over my right shoulder, jumped up on the bench, and grabbed Curt’s throat with my left hand. I don’t care how big you are, if someone has enough leverage to cut off your air, you’re going to notice. I brought the hatchet to his throat. “The Euclid corridor takes you very close to the Cleveland Clinic’s emergency room,” I said. “Take your friend and get him help. You can tell them I was six feet tall and looked like I played the front line for the Browns, if that makes you feel better. Maybe skip the Browns and say the Steelers; otherwise they’ll wonder why you’re such a wimp.”

  After a few tense, uncertain moments, Curt jerked his head in a nod. I released his throat, and he backed up to put his arm under Goatee. They limped off with Goatee screaming, “This isn’t over.”

  He was right.

  Chapter Six

  I was still thinking through the obstacle course Ovid put me through, going over every detail in mind, trying to figure out how I could have handled it better when Daniel and I got home. It was running on replay in my mind, and I couldn’t think of a single thing.

  I scooped Daniel up from the kitchen floor and wiped his hands with a diaper wipe. The crunch of Cheerios grinding into the wood floor was loud under my boots, but I ignored it. If I cleaned up all the smashed Cheerios, the house might fall. I was pretty sure half-chewed Cheerios were the glue keeping the walls together.

  “Want to watch Elmo?” I asked my smiling son, after changing his diaper, which led to changing his entire outfit, his third for the morning. Daniel cooed happily and shimmied his backside into a bean bag chair while the red monster counted to ten.

  “What news involving animals is out there?” I asked him, smart enough to know he wouldn’t answer, but I was full-on into the stay-at-home mom habit of talking to small children and inanimate objects. Don’t judge until you’ve stayed home a month with only a baby for companionship, and in my case, the occasional the vampire, troll, or ogre. Sadly, the monsters were confused when you tried to talk to them about current events or the latest must-see TV. Better just to kill them.

  I studied Cleveland.com for local animal news. “Cute cat videos from around Cleveland. No, that’s normal. Dog ordinance calls for all dogs, regardless of size, to be leashed. Nope. Coyotes found in Lakeland. That’s nothing new.”

  Instead of animal news, I typed in odd news. “Visitors swear they saw a long-necked monster with gills in Lake Erie.”

  The monsters in the lake were a peaceful family of plesiosauria who needed to come up for air once every twenty-four hours. Damn. I’m going to have to talk with them again. We’d had discussions about this.

  “A Boy Scout troop camping in the South Chagrin Reservation discovered footprints they say looked like they belonged to an African lion. The troop leader said he’d been camping in that spot for years and had never seen tracks like these. Wildlife enforcement is investigating whether cougars have moved in the area, although they say that is unlikely.”

  I added a mental note to talk with the sphinx.

  “The historic Miller house, after a year of legal debate, is set to be demolished this week to make way for the new Angel Crossing shopping center. The contractors inspected the site this week, marking off the rest of the power and sewer lines. Miller descendants warned that the ghosts that haunt the house will take residence in the new buildings.”

  I didn’t know anything about ghosts on that property, but I made another mental note to check into it later.

  A large man in the southeastern United States emerged from a swamp this
week, banged up and covered in sludge. When asked what happened, he muttered, “A chupalupa. Bertha fixed it.” Despite concern from a doctor on the scene, a local priest vouched for him and took him home, saying he just needed rest.

  I snorted.

  I kept reading, and although there was a lot of odd news, nothing pinged my hindbrain. I scrolled to “Openings and Closings.”

  “Playhouse Theatre received a generous grant to open a small ‘black box’ theatre for experimental playwrights who might otherwise not get to see their work produced. Per the endowment rules, each play will use local actors and run for one month.”

  That sounded awesome.

  “The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo closed the Primate Exhibit, including Monkey Island, for extensive cleaning. Though the cleaning was unscheduled, Zoo Communications Director, Elisabeth Borhring, said that this is simply routine and will be concluded in a few days. The zoo issued free re-entry passes to those who paid full price and encouraged zoo visitors to explore the other parts of the zoo, including the Rainforest, which houses marmosets and tamarin monkeys.”

  I picked up the phone. “Angie, want to take the little kids to the zoo?”

  We met Angie at the zoo entrance. I don’t have many female friends, so I treasured Angie and her kids, all four of them. She hauled the twin girls along in a trendy double stroller, an expensive side-by-side contraption so that Rose and April wouldn’t fight over who was in front. We were dressed for the weather, which was sunny but on the cool side with a pleasant breeze. I wore black stretch pants, a gray long-tailed T-shirt, and a light zippered sweatshirt with a hood. My friend eyed me.

  “You’re wearing stretch pants with boots?”

  “They’re ankle boots. Very fashionable.”

  She nodded, her mouth serious, but her eyes twinkled. “If you say so.”

  I considered her stretch pants and high-top Chucks and raised an eyebrow.

  “Chucks are tried and true!”

  “If you say so.” Shooting me a look, she pulled ahead, pushing her stroller a little faster. Angie’s deadbeat husband killed himself in a drinking and driving accident in which he was the drinker, the drunk, and the driver. Luckily, the other party was a guardrail on Chagrin River Road, a treacherous path of blind switchbacks popular with bicyclists, so no innocents were killed. I didn’t say no innocents were hurt, since Angie was left with four small kids and what cash she could rally up by babysitting other people’s children. She received a monthly payment from a trust originally set up for her husband by his late parents, which she hadn’t known about while they’d been married. That’s what allowed her to get by.