Timothy sat up on the
strange pallet, the light of dawn warming his body.
Pungent smells wafted through the open
window and the
humidity bathed him in the
very air. At last! Today he would
fulfill the
purpose of his travels. Three
months by
land and a
month by sea and now he would have his
audience.
He could not help grinning like a
fool as he donned his ceremonial
robes and his priestly hat, straightening the
tassle to ensure a dignified
appearance. He walked with a spring in his step and greeted the
attendant at the
door to his
hut.
The attendant's voice seemed to ooze,
spicy and
sanguine.
"Sleep well, sir?"
"Like a baby."
"Shall I send for
breakfast, sir?"
"I would not be able to eat it for anticipation. I would like to skip it and get on with the audience, should it please His Holiness." Timothy's
eyes shone like the
jeweled waves cresting the
beach that lay before them.
"Right, sir." The attendant nodded matter of factly.
"I shall inform the
High Priest that you await his arrival."
The attendant turned and strode down the
beach with ease. His
sandals swished the sand as he walked, kicking up tiny plumes.
Timothy sat in front of the
hut and tried to calm himself. He concentrated on the waves and the
odd trees with
leaves like long
green feathers and
big brown balls affixed to their trunks.
Everything seemed so
fresh.
Unable to
contain himself any longer, he leapt up and began to pace. He
wrung his hands in
glee and
anticipation. "Yes!
Soon!" His sandaled
feet plowed a
deep furrow in the
sand. He ran inside and grabbed his
satchel. He skipped with
glee.
He suddenly smelled a peculiar
skunky odor. A throat-clearing sounded behind him.
He turned. The
High Priest! He looked just like his
portait! A bit older maybe but with the same sense of
confidence and
command in those powerful
eyes.
Eyes that walked all of
the Nine Worlds! He could-"
"
Ahem!" The
High Priest repeated. He gazed at
Timothy. His hat bore no
sequined priestly tassle for the
High Priest needed no such
decorations to assure others of his
mighty station. His left hand rested matter-of-factly by his side, and, in his right, a smoking object of some sort. Like a
cigarette, except it smelled nothing like
tobacco. It was the source of the curious
odor. What was it?
"Are you prepared for the
task at hand!?"
Timothy stood
affixed. The
priest followed his
gaze. "Ah, I see. Plenty of time for that, later, I assure you. Now I repeat myself Are you ready for the task?"
"Task? Well I never really thought of it as a task it's...well." he struggled to
compose himself. He was mumbling in front of the
High Priest himself! He never
mumbled! Plenty of time for what?
Task?
"He may," the
High Priest leaned in closer, "test you."
"Oh. Okay." Timothy could think of
nothing. He waited for the
High Priest to say something.
"Now, then. What's in the bag?"
"Just an offering."
"You can
give it to me. He won't
accept it, anyhow. He chooses what you have to offer Him."
The
High Priest held out his hand and Timothy meekly gave him the satchel. The
priest drew it it's contents and moaned in
disgust. "Oh.. another one. What is it with you
people!? We're in the
tropics, man. He's got all the damn
bananas he could ever hope to eat!
Plantations!"
The
High Priest flung the
bunch of
bananas into the
ocean and took a heavy pull of his
funny cigarette.
"He's actually got more of a taste for
dates, anyway."
Timothy gazed into the
sand,
humiliated. The
High Priest sighed.
"Oh come now.
You couldn't have known. Let us go.
It is time."
Timothy looked up, a new
vigor in his face. His hands clutched his
robe.
"Yes."
intoned the
High Priest priest, his voice a
river of
honey, "It is time for you to stand before the
Monkey who is God and know his
presence!"
They walked up the path into the
jungle, passing through the veils of
mist and portentious
birdcalls.
****
They emerged into the clearing. The
High Priest stopped his casual chat when he noticed that
Timothy was no longer listening. He marveled at the clearing. Utterly
rapt.
That's always the way it is, thought the
High Priest. Such
awe! He shrugged and drew deeply on his
ceremonial spliff. (The
ceremony was whatever happened to be occuring at the time. Usually he found some
event to tack it onto.)
Timothy tried to take it all in. The humungous
stones! The cascading
waterfalls! The
tiki lamps! The
throne! The throne was
empty! Where was the
Monkey who is
God!?
Something slammed against Timothy, knocking him to the carved
stones set in the
ground and sending his lovely
hat flying. A
scream filled the clearing, near him. He attempted to
recover his senses. Before him was. It was
Him! He was jumping up and down and...he was wearing Timothy's tassled hat. Timothy gasped! To have this one wear his hat.
He was not worthy of such an
honor!
The
High Priest yawned and sat in a wooden
chair facing the
throne. "I don't know why he always does that..." He blew a cloud of smoke into the air.
Timothy could not believe what he was hearing. How could someone, even the
High Priest speak of the
Monkey who is
God in such a
casual manner, with such...such...
impunity!? The Monkey leapt up and down.
Still screaming.
Have I angered him!? Oh let it not be so!
The
High Priest saw the fear on Timothy's face. "Oh. He's not angry. He's laughing. He likes you." He turned to the Monkey, laughing, "He thinks you're
angry!"
The Monkey's
demeanor changed instantly.
Solemn storms flickered in his
monkey eyes.
"Oh No! No! I-" Timothy sputtered.
The Monkey laughed again, louder this time and turned to the
High Priest, pointing at Timothy. He held out his hand and the
High Priest slapped it, holding his out then for the Monkey to do that same. Such
odd rituals! The Monkey regarded Timothy again and made sounds that, perhaps if he were another monkey, Timothy would have recognized it as
speech.
"He said it's time to get down to
business. What has brought you before The Monkey who is God? Aside from, of course, the desire to bask in His
holy presence?"
The Monkey cocked his
head at Timothy.
All so
sudden! Timothy tried to
speak. "This
curse, you see, in my
land.
Omens,
prophecies and
fires!"
"Oh my." the
High Priest said.
The Monkey talked some more and closed his eyes.
"He will
deliberate." the
High Priest, announced.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, the Monkey sometimes nodding His head and making small,
affirmative noises. Then He opened his eyes and began to talk.
"He says, no
doom will come to your
people. All is well. Consider the signs in your land as
trivial as the
prize in a
box of
Cracker Jacks."
Timothy frowned, "A what?"
"
Never mind." The
High Priest waved it away. "There is one
condition. You must stay
here, with the Monkey who is God! Never to return to your
land. You
amuse Him."
"But! Well.. Surely it's a great
honor! So great I
cannot accept. I'm not
worthy and, besides, my people
need me!"
The Monkey pointed to Timothy's
tassled hat on His head, crossed His
eyes, stuck out His
tongue, and did a stupid little
dance while wiggling His
finger next to His ear in a circular
motion."
"He says you're wrong."
"But...!"
"Should you return to your land," the
High Priest's
prophetic voice boomed through the clearing, "The houses and
people of your
villages shall
melt and flow as one across the land in rivers of
molten stone and
blood.
Lakes of fire shall
blossom across the praries and
sinkholes shall open under the crops as the
locusts
eat your brains for
lack of anything else to
munch on."
"Oh. So...I'll stay here."
The
Monkey who is
God nodded.
The
High Priest smiled. "Such
wisdom and
foresight and without even partaking in the
sacred truth
herb!! Your skills will
truly know their
potential once you have
inhaled the
goodness!" He passed the
joint to Timothy who stared at it before making a
valiant attempt at smoking it. The Monkey tapped Timothy on the
shoulder, a deck of cards in his
hand.
"The Monkey who is God wishes to
know whether you'd prefer
Hearts or
Bridge."
So it was that Timothy, faithful votive of the Monkey who is God remained on the Monkey's island. But he did not simply sit there playing Bridge for the rest of his days. Oh no. There were dark times ahead. Divine struggles for power, and Timothy, The Monkey who is God and the High Priest all had thier parts to play. The Sky Goat and other assorted anthropomorphic, human, and ethereal deities would soon lay their claims to the Realm of Earth in Shagarock, the Second to Final Battle, and the Monkey who is God would be ready.