Pranksters and Drunks

After one month at the same place it started feeling like they we're living down there. They found all the outlets, they bought rum on the corner and cigars off the plaza, they drank prior to dinner at The Black Iguana and played billiards above the arches. the streets always covered with shit and the gutters flowed with gray water. Denny directed traffic and Jack awoke with the shakes eating fruit in bed and reading Miller's Tropic of Cancer, where cunts were so great they swallowed men whole. The boy had grown, not only physically, but his voice had changed. For the moment, time stood still as the rum spilled. Jack grew old in the Central American time warp with broken ribs and shakes in the morning. His wife was the strong hold, the one certain in life, she watched over them like broken sheep, catching Jack when he fell and filling his glass when it emptied. She made arrangements, she knew what day of the week it was, she retained the names of dark streets. She loved Jack deep into the night while the boy slept dreaming of some place sane far from here. It was if they themselves had become Merry Pranksters only they had missed the bus. They danced on 200 year old floors above the bartender, spilling drinks that found their way through the cracks in the floor onto the patrons below.
The monkeys had been trained to pick coconuts on plantations so it was easy for them to adapt to human tasks. Denny trained them to operate the blender and pour Pina Coladas. The monkeys had a hard time choosing which pineapples were ripe so every once in a while Denny and Jack fell ill to the toxicity. It was Fair Trade, The monkeys ate mangos on margarita days and bananas on daiquiri days. Fair Trade Alliance Monkey Co-operative.