Billy Straight

16

My eyes are closed, and I'm thinking when I feel it. Ants are crawling over me; they probably smelled the Honey Nuts. I jump to my feet and slap them off, stomp as many as I can. Someone watching me would think I'm crazy.

After what I saw, I don't feel great even being in the park, but what's my choice? For a second I imagine him finding me, chasing me, cornering me. He's got the knife, the same one, grabs me and stabs down. My heart jumps up to meet the blade.

Why would I think that?

It's 11:34 A.M., have to take my mind off it. I open the algebra book, do equations in my head. I'll try to eat- maybe a piece of beef jerky- and at 1:00 P.M., I'll go down to that place along the fence, see if the lock's still off.

Made it. Super-quiet up in Africa. Five dollars in my pocket; the rest of my money's wrapped up and buried.

Hot- summer's coming early. Lots of sleepy animals, most of them hiding in their caves. Not a lot of people- some tourists, mostly Japanese, and young moms with babies in strollers. I've got a notebook with me and a pencil, to make it look like some kind of school assignment. My smell isn't too bad out in the open. No one's looking at me weird, and someone actually smiled- a couple of tourists- a man and a woman, Americans, old, kind of geeky, with lots of cameras and this zoo map they can't seem to figure out. I probably remind them of their grandson or something.

I keep going to the top of Africa. Most of the animals are sleeping, but I don't care, it feels good to walk without having to. One rhino is out, but she just gives me a dirty look, so I head for the gorillas.

When I get there, it's a scene.

Two of the young moms are there, freaking out; one of them's brushing off her blouse and screaming, “Oh God, gross!” and the other's wheeling her stroller backward fast. Then they both race away toward North America.

I see why right away.

Shit. All over the ground near the fence that blocks off the gorilla exhibit.

Five gorillas are out, four sitting around and scratching and sleeping and one standing the way they do, bent over with his hands almost reaching the ground. A girl. The males have humongous heads and a silver stripe down their backs.

She starts walking around, stops to check out the other gorillas, scratches, walks some more. Then she bends and picks up a giant piece of shit.

And throws it.

It misses my head, and lands on the ground right next to me, exploding into nasty-smelling dust. Some of it gets on my shoes. I try to kick it loose and another chunk flies by me. And another.

“You idiot!” I hear myself scream. No one's around.

The gorilla folds her arms across her chest and just looks at me and I swear she's smiling, like this is some terrific gorilla joke.

Then she points at me. Then she picks up another hunk.

I get out of there. The whole world has gotten crazy.

I buy a lemonade from a vending machine and walk around drinking, hoping all the shit dust comes off, because I'm really tired of gross things.

Maybe I'll visit the reptile house; it's cool and shaded and seeing another two-headed king snake would be cool.

On the way in, I meet those same two grandparent tourists coming out and they smile again, still looking confused. I cruise by the boas and the anaconda, adders and lizards, rattlesnakes, vipers, and cobras. Spend some time looking at an albino python, huge and fat, with pink-white scales and weird red eyes.

Will its ugly pale face get into my dreams tonight?

That wouldn't be bad if I could get it to eat PLYR 1.

I stand there thinking of myself as the Snakemaster, communicating with reptiles through mental power. Calling the albino python to wrap itself around PLYR 1, crushing him, squeezing him like a juice orange.

Knowing what's happening to him. That's worse than just dying. Knowing.

A little while later, near the edge of the zoo, next to a playground that I guess they keep for little kids who get bored with the animals, is a vegetable patch with a rope around it.

Corn and beans and tomatoes and peppers. The sign says it's for the animals, so they'll have fresh food. I've seen chimps eating corn, so gorillas probably do, too, and that gets me thinking.

I also love corn, steamed sweet, but we never had it at home. Once, when I was in sixth grade, the school threw a Thanksgiving brunch out in the play yard- turkey and corn and sweet potatoes with marshmallows for anyone who paid. Everything piled high on long tables, moms in aprons spooning it out. I went into town to have a look, even though I had no money to buy anything. I hung around till the end, found a couple of loose quarters and played some ski-bowl, but lunch was out of the question- five dollars.

But one of the PTA ladies saw me looking at the corn and gave me a whole ear, daisy-yellow and shiny with butter, along with a turkey leg big enough for a family. I took it under a tree and ate, and that was the best Thanksgiving I ever had.

Now I move closer to the vegetable patch and look around.

Clear.

Quickly, I hop over the rope, go straight to the corn, break off three ears, and stuff them in my pockets. They stick out, so I tuck them under my T-shirt, hop back over like nothing happened, and walk slowly till I find a bathroom.

I go into one of the stalls, close the door, sit on the toilet lid, and take out one of the corns, peeling off the leaves and that hairy stuff and wondering what it'll taste like raw.

It's pretty good. Hard, crunchy, not nearly as delicious as steamed corn with butter, but it does have a sweet corn taste. I eat two ears quickly, the third more slowly, chewing hard and getting every bit down while reading the cuss-word graffiti all over the walls. When I'm finished, I lick all the corn taste from the cobs, toss them into the corner of the stall, take a leak, and use the bathroom sink to wash my face and hands. Then I roll up my jeans and wash the sides of my legs, too.

My stomach hurts, but differently.

Too full. I pigged out.

Your lunch is now mine, gorilla.

Revenge is as sweet as corn!