Monkey Business by John R. Erickson Page A

youldn’t yoo yat.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI yaid, you yould yever yawn . . .” Something had gone wrong with my talkatory mechanism. It had locked up on me.
    Drover twisted his head and stared at me. “You sure are talking funny.”
    â€œYes, and you yee what you’ve yone? You’ve yuined my yongue and made a yockery of my yecture! I yan’t yalk or yive a yecture yith my yongue all yangled up yike yis, you yunce!”
    â€œI don’t know what you said, but I guess you’re right.”
    I walked a short distance away and spit several times to get the knot out of my tongue. Some­times, when you repeat certain sounds over and over, the muscle fibers in the tongualary region begin to cramp up, don’t you see, causing the speaker to fixate on certain ridiculous sounds.
    It’s a humiliating affliction, and although we haven’t found the exact cause, we know that it most often occurs when the victim is trying to com­municate with morons. In the security business, we refer to it as Tongue Runamuckus, but there’s no need for you to remember all the scientific terminography.
    After a few moments, my tongue returned to its normal state and I marched back over to Drover.
    â€œPoint One: We know from our intelligence reports that a certain cottontail rabbit lives in the pipes of this cattle guard. Point Two: We also know that at this hour of the morning he leaves the pipes and ventures out into the pasture to feed on green grass. Point Three: It’s our job to locate this rabbit while he’s in a feeding mode. And, Point Four: Our mission is to cut off his attempts to scamper back into the safety of the pipes of the cattle guard. Is that clear?”
    â€œWell . . . not really.”
    â€œThen never mind. We’ve got a job to do and you’ll just have to play it by ear.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said, you’ll just have to play it by ear.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said, you’ll just have to . . . something must be wrong with your ear, Drover.”
    He pounded on the side of his head with a front paw. “Something’s wrong with my ear.”
    â€œIt’s probably full of wax.”
    â€œNo, I haven’t seen any tacks.”
    I felt exhausted, dragged down into the dust by the forces of ignorance and anarchy. “Drover, look at me. Read my lips. Sometimes I think you’re trying to make a mockery of my life.”
    â€œI must have some wax in this ear.”
    â€œAnd, Drover, sometimes I think I hate you.”
    â€œHank, there’s something I ought to tell you.”
    At last we were getting somewhere! The terrible truth had cut through the many layers of trash and had penetrated to the innermost garbage of his mind.
    â€œYes, Drover? Go ahead and make your confession. It’ll hurt at first but in the long run, it’ll hurt even worse. Just blurt it out in your own words.”
    â€œHank, that little cottontail rabbit just crawled into the pipes of the cattle guard.”
    HUH?
    My eyes darted from side to side, and slowly the pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. We had just been outfoxed by a rabbit, which was nothing to crow about.

Chapter Two: The Mysterious Red Box Appears

    I turned my eyes back to Drover. “Well, are you happy now?”
    â€œOh, about the usual, I guess.”
    â€œYou’ve ruined the exercise and made a shambles of our entire morning’s work. The rabbit has entered the pipes of the cattle guard and now there’s no chance that we’ll get to chase him around.”
    â€œWell, I guess we can go back down to the gas tanks and catch up on our . . .”
    â€œNot so fast. Just because he gave us the slip doesn’t mean we’re going to quit and go home in disgrace. We’ll just have to bark him out. Battle stations, Drover, and commence barking!”
    We rushed to the north end of the cattle guard. I began the procedure by