13 Drops of Blood - By James Roy Daley Page 0,26

the eye while I’m tellin’. This shindig is costing a lot more than thirty bucks. Chemicals alone are three times that, food is at two bucks a month now and I’ve been investing money for years. But I see a future in this zoo of mine, and soon folks will take notice.”

Monk did something with his throat that sounded like a wet grunt. He said, “Fifty cents? That’s a lot of money, Jon. People in town don’t have fifty cents to look at a big rodent. You know that. Where’s your head?”

Jon nodded. “I want to agree with you, Monk, I really do. But I’ve given this more than a little thought. I figure I’ll pull in sixty people, maybe sixty-five.”

“Sixty-five? Boy, you are dreaming.”

“Keller will come.”

“That’s one man.”

“And he’ll bring his family.”

Monk had a square jaw, beady eyes, and thin lips that came together in a way that made him look tough when he was thinking about money. He looked tough now, looked like he was thinking. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Let’s say he does. That’s him, Ellen, and the five young ones. That makes seven people right there, and you know he’ll bring the little ones. He’ll do it because he can, and he’ll do it to show off.”

“I suppose.”

“He will. And do you think Absonoff will stay home, a big shot like him? Not a chance. He’ll be there because of Keller, and he won’t be comin’ alone neither. And once Absonoff decides to go, old man Macmillan will get the fire under his ass. You know that.”

“Yeah.”

“And then there’s Norton King. He wouldn’t miss out on a thing like this, not in a million years. And he can afford it, might not want to shell out the cash but he will. Why? Because he don’t skimp on nothing, believe you me. And what do you think Laura will say when Norton decides to go to the zoo without her? Any ideas?”

“Okay, okay. I see your point. Now that I think about it Wendell and Markus wouldn’t miss something like this. They’d walk a mile in the rain to see a wet turd.”

“Yeah, not to mention ‘what’s his nuts’ up on the hill.”

“Gentry.”

“That’s right. Gentry. He’ll come. He’ll be first in line.”

“Sixty huh?” Monk was looking tougher and tougher. His thin lips puckered into a horizontal button that was threatening to disappear altogether. He was seeing possibilities in Jon’s foolish idea, dollar signs too. He grinned, releasing the button that was his mouth. “Do you really think you can bring in sixty? That’s a lot of people, Jon. A lot.”

“It’ll be a ‘one week only’ event, and whoever buys a ticket can to come all week long if the mood strikes ‘em. Yeah, I recon the zoo will bring in sixty. Like I said… might even bring in sixty-five.”

Monk rubbed his hands together. “Okay, lets pretend I agree. What’s in it for me?”

“Well August, I’ve given this a fair bit of thought too. I know you’re tough, but I believe you to be a man of your word.”

“That’s why I’m running the show.”

“Exactly. Now look-it, I could give you this or that, but I want you to help me nurture the damn thing. We’ll get sixty this time and seventy or seventy-five next; who knows? Might get eighty. You know this town. There’s nothing to do but sit around Bunter’s Saloon, gettin drunk and talking shit. And by the way, what do you think they’ll be yappin’ about after the zoo opens, huh? The zoo, that’s what… they’ll be talking ‘bout the zoo. My zoo. Your zoo. Our zoo. You get me?”

Monk’s little lips began to pucker again. “Uh-huh.”

“Hell, if someone farts loud enough half the town comes runnin’ to see whose shorts got dirty.”

“It’s hard to argue there. That new game, what is it called?”

“Bingo.”

“Yeah, bingo. It’s more popular than I thought possible… picking numbers to win a basket of tomatoes? I don’t get it.”

“That’s ‘cause people are bored, August. There’s nothing to do here.”

August Monk grunted. Jonathan Weakley was telling the unbiased truth about Monk Town: it was a boring place to live. He didn’t like it much but it was the truth.

“Now listen,” Jon said. “I want to give you twenty-five percent. I’ll cover the cost of food and the growth enhancing chemicals and the rest of it, don’t worry ‘bout that, but what I’m tryin’ to say is: I need your help. I need you to give me Town Pit and wave the three-dollar fee. And

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