Chapter Eleven: Lucy’s Heartrending Story

She stopped crying and reached into a pocket on the front of her dress. She pulled out a little box of candy. “Here, take them all.”

“No, just one. Since you’ve got fingers, you dig it out of the box.”

She opened the top of the box with her little monkey hands and offered me a roundish piece of chocolate candy. She laid it down on the cement, and I gave it a thorough sniffing.

I mean, Lucy seemed like a nice kid, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When you’re dealing with the crinimal element, you never know. Don’t forget what Deputy Kile had said about the sleeping pills.

It passed my Snifferation Test. This was chocolate candy, not some kind of goofball medicine. I swept it into my mouth and chewed it. My ears shot up. “Hey, this is the good kind, with mushamino cherries in the center. Wow, I love ’em!”

A grin spread across her mouth, and . . . you know, it just got wider and wider. Nobody ever said that monkeys have pretty mouths. They don’t, not even the girls. “Would you like another?”

“No, thanks. One’s plenty. Go on with your story. How in thunderation did you get mixed up with a gang of robbers?”

Her smile faded and she looked away. “I was a rebellious child.”

“I thought so. We hear this a lot.”

“I never listened to my mother. We fought all the time, and I ran away from home and . . . joined the circus.”

“Lucy, Lucy! I’ve never met your mother, but you should have listened to her. Mothers always know best. A circus is no place for a gerp. A girl, that is.”

“I know that now, but I was stubborn and headstrong. You want another Yum-Yum?”

“No, thanks.” My tongue swept across my lips. “Sure, what the heck, one more.”

She brought a piece of candy out of the box. “Let me show you a trick we did in the circus.” She pitched it up in the air. “Snap it.”

I watched as the candy arced gracefully into the air. Then, when it had reached its peak and started to come down, I opened my mouth, shifted my head slightly, and snapped it right out of the air. “Hey, did you see that? Maybe I should have gotten a job in the circus, huh?”

“That was good, sir. You seem to be very talented.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, I’m not one to brag, Lucifer, but . . .”

“Lucy.”

“Lucy. Sorry. I’m not one to bag, but yes, I’m fairly tounted. Anyway, go on with your story. You joined the curpus. Circus.” I stared at her face and noticed something odd. “Luby, do you have three eyes?”

“Why, no sir, only two.”

“Huh. That’s fumble . . . uh, funny. There for a second, I thought I saw tree eyes.”

She giggled. “Oh, sir, you’re teasing me.”

“I am?”

“Yes sir, because trees don’t have eyes.”

“Oh. Ha ha. You’re right, but I said three eyes, not . . . does it seem cold out here?”

“No sir, maybe a little warm.”

“That’s what I meant. I’m burping up.”

“You’re sick?”

“No, I said I’m burning up. Hot. Maybe I nerd some air.” I stood up and paced a few . . . now, that was really odd. My back legs just quit on me, and all at once I was . . . well, pulling myself along with my hiney dragging the ground.

She noticed this and squeaked a laugh. “Oh, sir, you do the funniest things! It’s hard to believe that you’re a mean old guard dog.”

“Ha ha. Yes, well, anything to impress the ladies, I always say, but actually . . . Loopy, all at wump things seem to be spinning around. Are you noticing anything lipe that?”

She gazed up at the sky. “Well, sir, they say the earth is spinning around all the time. We just don’t notice it.”

“Yeah, well, sullenly I notice it.” I dragged myself over to her. “Lizzie, I muss ask you a merry important quejon . . . question.”

She sat up and gave me her full attention. “Yes, sir?”

I leaned toward her . . . actually, I fell into her lap. “Oops, sorry.” I gathered myself up, swaying back and forth. “Lukie, tell me the troof, the honest troof. I mutts know. Bottom line: Are you a good lil mucky or a bad lil mucky?”

She gave me an odd smile. “The truth? You want the truth?” I happened to be looking directly at her when she . . . HUH? Peeled off the red wig and pitched it on the ground, and wiped the lipstick on the back of her hand. And when she spoke, her voice had changed. “Check it out. I’m Bub, same guy. Hee hee. Did I fool you?”

I tried to steady myself and beamed her . . . beamed him a gaze of purest steel. “Mot even for a mimute. I wasss on to your triss from very start, Bug.”

His shoulders twitched in a shrug. “Oh, well. I knew I’d get caught sooner or later. I guess I’m under arrest, huh?”

“Thass right, pal. You’re unner rest.”

“I don’t care. You know, I hate this job. It’s so . . . so degrading, know what I mean?”

I put my nose in his face. “Then why dun you juss run away? Muckys who hate their jobs quit, pal.”

He rolled his eyes up to the sky. “I never thought of it that way. Good point. There’s the other side, isn’t there? The food is pretty good and . . . well, it’s interesting work, like being a movie star or something. You know, costumes, acting, adventure all the time.” He let out a weird giggle. “Gosh, maybe I don’t hate my job after all.”

I tried to pull myself up to a dignified pose. “Thass juss what I thought, Blub. You shunt have come bakk eer. See, this issss smy ransh, and now I’m gun haff to arress you.”

“Yes, you keep saying that, but . . .” He grinned and gave me a wink. “Are you sure you can stay awake?”

“Huh? Sssure I kin say wake.”

“I wonder. Here, let me show you another trick.”

He placed one finger on my chest...and pushed. I’m sorry to report . . .

PLOP.

Okay, we’ve got some business to take care of. That passage you just read contains some . . . uh . . . very secret, highly classified information about our . . . uh . . . security systems. If that information ever leaked out to enemy spy organizations, it could have very serious consequences.

So I’m sure you’ll agree that we need to do something about that, right? Of course you do. I would appreciate it if you would repeat the following Solemn Oath of Secrecy. Raise your right hand and repeat the oath:

“I, (your name), do solemnly swear that I probably didn’t read the passage I just read, but if I did, I don’t remember one thing about it. In the unlikely event that I remember a few details, I understand that they were based on rumors and gossip, and I refuse to believe that Hank the Cowdog would get sandbagged by a monkey.”

There! I feel better now. I hate to put you under oath, but you must understand that dogs in high positions sometimes have to . . . well, protect our little reader-friends from false impressions. See, we have your best interests at heart, we really do, and, gosh, wouldn’t we feel bad if you got the wrong idea? Ha ha. Sure we would.

Anyway, we’re going to forget that last scene and mush on with the story. It was night, remember? Slim Chance had fallen asleep in the bathtub, and I was out there on Life’s Front Lines, expecting that the ranch would be struck by a gang of monkey burglars.

Ha ha. Would you believe that nothing happened? No kidding. I mean, it seems funny now, that I got myself all worked up and worried over nothing. Ha ha. But nothing happened and nobody came.

In fact, it turned out to be a pretty boring night, and sometime around ten o’clock, I just, you know, went to bed. Don’t forget that I was VERY TIRED. Exhausted from a long day in the hay field. No kidding.

Anyway, that’s about the end of the story. We never heard another word about the monkey burglars and . . . well, everything turned out peachy keen. So you can put this book away and go brush your teeth or something, and I’ll see you down the . . .

Wait. Stop. Hold everything. Don’t close your book. There’s something I haven’t told you.

Sigh.

Sit down and take a deep seat. This is liable to come as a terrible shock. I didn’t want to tell you this, but maybe I should.

Here’s the deal. In that last scene, did you notice that my speech started getting slurred? Well, there’s a reason for that. See, you probably thought that Lucy was a sweet, innocent little monkey girl who had been led down the wrong path by a villain named Willie, right?

Ha! What a joke. Lucy was a sweet, innocent little CROOK, only she wasn’t sweet or innocent, and she wasn’t even a girl. She was Bub, wearing a phony disguise and . . . well, maybe you’ve already figured that out.

Anyway, she was Bub, and he gave me two pieces of candy that were loaded with a deadly poison from the jungles of Mamby Pamby. He slipped me a mickey, is what he did, and he sure didn’t do it by accident.

There it is, the dreadful truth. Now you know.

Did I survive the Poisoning Episode? To find out, you’ll have to keep on reading.