talk the zoo up, tell people they shouldn’t miss it… that sort of thing.”
“What’s that work out to, six bucks? Is that right?”
“Help me out and before long, your cut will be twenty dollars.”
August squeezed his lips together. He didn’t think he’d see twenty, not for a big rat. But he was wrong about bingo so he figured he might be wrong about the big rat too. And the town was boring; he had to admit it. He said, “If this zoo idea falls flat you owe me three bucks for the Pit plus my percentage. Sound fair?”
“Sounds fine Monk, just fine.”
* * *
That first week they didn’t bring in sixty or sixty-five. They brought in a hundred and forty-eight. The admission total was $74.00. Monk’s cut was $18.50. He couldn’t believe it. It was the easiest money he’d ever made. Stranger than that, Jonathan Weakley was an instant celebrity. Some considered him a hero.
And the people couldn’t get over the size of the rat.
It wasn’t big; it was huge.
To put it in perspective, a 290-pound rat is the size of a full-grown hog. People thought he captured the damn thing.
And they were thankful––none more so than Helga Whitman.
Helga was the first to call Jon a hero.
She said, “Can you imagine that monster finding you face down in the garden? Good Lord, it’d swallow you whole! Jon is a hero for capturing that abomination, a true hero! He should get a metal!”
It was later––after she discovered that Jonathan was responsible for growing the animal––that she formed God’s People.
She hated Jon then, felt like a fool too.
For the first few weeks Jon enjoyed his fame; he never thought people would react the way they did. It made him happy, but it also made him worried. He had the feeling that if people discovered the truth about the rat he might be in hot water.
Monk agreed; he felt it too.
So the two men decided to keep a lid on the science part of Jon’s zoo. Problem was, Jonathan’s experiments weren’t exactly a secret, and in time the information leaked and everybody knew the truth. Fortunately, it was a slow leak, and people didn’t seem to care.
Except for the perfect ten, that is. And they cared enough for everybody.
* * *
The second event sold two-hundred-and-two tickets, $101.00 at the door. Monk’s cut was $25.50; he couldn’t have been happier.
But this time it wasn’t a rat; it was an 850-pound lizard.
The lizard looked like a dinosaur and ran around the Pit with so much speed and might that people thought it would jump free and kill them all. It gave one hell of a fine performance. The spectators went home happy and filled with astonishment.
After that, things sort of went into production.
Jonathan hired Bill Watt and his brother Ted to build a permanent cage over the top portion of the Pit so the animals couldn’t escape. (After the lizard’s little run around the park, escape seemed very possible.) The men also built permanent cages inside the Pit for the rat, the lizard and whatever came next, sparing no expense. After the cages were finished, they started installing seats around The Pit’s rim. They were nicely crafted, made of leather. And they weren’t costing Monk anything, so he was all for it.
The Pit sat empty most of the year; there were a few dances, the odd wedding, and the annual Monk Town auction. But Bingo was held in Town Hall not Town Pit, and when it came right down to it––if August rented Town Pit ten times a year (at three dollars a day) he considered himself lucky.
Ten times three equals thirty bucks.
And Jonathan had given $44.00 inside a ten-week span.
So, as far as August was concerned, the Pit was Jonathan’s zoo now. The weddings, the auction, and whatever else came down the pipe, could take place at Town Hall––end of discussion.
* * *
The third event was announced fourteen weeks later. It showcased a 330-pound bullfrog; they sold 260 tickets. Six weeks later they showcased an 800-pound turtle and sold another 296 tickets. That was a total of 556 tickets and $278.00 at the gate.
Monk put $69.50 in his pocket.
He figured he’d soon be rich.
Unfortunately the turtle never moved and people went home displeased.
Jon felt that his reputation had taken a beating, his pride too. So he turned things up a notch and mutated something more dangerous: a wolf. By opening night the man-eater was 900 pounds and looked like a water buffalo. Its eyeteeth