The Pit of Despair and Slipping Down...Down

I put up a good fight and nearly escaped... but there was just no way a 12-year-old like me was going to hold off the likes of 15 determined hippies who had a plan. Remember last time; when I said that I wanted to feel like I was part of the tribe...and join them in the backyard fun? Well, little did I know at time that I WOULD be JOINING THEM in THEIR BACKYARD FUN.  It was like the guy who saw the big boiling pot and asked the Cannibal what was for dinner and the Cannibal looked him in the eyes and said... "YOU!" Just before he tied him up and threw him in.

I WAS THE BACKYARD FUN! Dang it!  Why was I so stupid that I couldn't see this coming? Hippies digging a hole...doing hard work and having fun! I knew there was something odd about it. OXYMORON "Markie D, you should have seen this coming" I silently grumbled to myself. I was bound in a wet, coarse rope that they scavenged from the soupy bottom of the leaky boat in the front yard and was being dragged over to the sand pit.

I had been through the ritual before. I had been buried up to my neck in the sand at high tide line at Leo Carrillo State Beach in Malibu and in this exact same spot a couple times.  This time, however, the circumstance have changed somewhat and it was the "somewhat" of the unknown that frightened me. Next to the hole the industrious Wolf-Pack had stacked old cinder-blocks used for construction.  This wasn't good - I was smart enough to know that and began to panic on the inside

PANIC. That's what they wanted! they wanted to see me panic on the outside and they got it! They wanted to see me squirm and maybe even throw up.  I desperately tried to dig deep into my superpowers so that I could vomit on about 8 or 9 of them - but I only had a couple bites of the moldy sourdough toast in the bottom of my stomach - I had NOTHING!   They dragged me across the ground behind them like in one of those TV Westerns where you see the cowboys being dragged by a horse.

If they untied me before stuffing me in the hole...I knew my adrenalin would kick in and could take out another 5 or 6 of the hippies who smelled like skunk.  My life depended on it...what if they buried me and decided to let out the Veloci-Rooster. If that was their diabolical plan, then I was a "gonner" for sure!



The front of the Evening Outlook would read EXTRA EXTRA: Venice boy's eyes gouged out by a Pre-Flood Raptor and talon-ed to death!  I'm not sure "taloned" is a word - but you get it - punctured to death by the four-inch razor-sharp talons of the one-eyed crazy rooster.    WHAT IF?

The Hippy Wolf Pack was too smart this time and kept my hands tied behind my back and strapped around my body as they heaved me into the pit. It took them 14 tries. Every time they attempted to shove me into the pit of despair I spread my legs and made it impossible.  Ha! "So There!"  They made Flea-Bait grab my legs and that's when I bit him on the back of the shoulder. He should have seen that coming - Idiot! Well, I tell you right now, that backfired - because I paid for that about 30 times over!

This went on for something like 5 minutes. I kicked and bit and wiggled and squirmed as if the hole and I were magnetically polar opposites and the hole kept obliging as if the hole itself - willed to reject me.

Thank you Mr. Hole.

Mr Hole was my friend for about 13 failed attempts until the Wolf Pack finally got my feet tied together and six of them managed to force my tamed appendages down into the center of the pit.  I was tied and bound and now gagged as the long-haired hippies began back-filling the hole like dogs digging for bones. As the sand filled in around me the pressure pushed in on my chest making it hard to breathe - which incited my secret claustrophobia.

THEN came the "Somewhat."  It went from very bad to worst as they began stacking the construction blocks around me like my own personal Igloo of Death.  I was working in a coal mine and about to slip down...                    
                                               android users: Working In a Coal Mine
It couldn't get any worst - right?     WRONG!
              It got a lot worse - A LOT WORST!

I had cheated death already and now I felt like my number was up... I had escaped from Salton Sea (post 5/13/13), but felt there was no way out of this.

THE ZOO: The conclusion! Plus 1000 thanks

I began posting my childhood stories just over a week ago and I would like to thank all of you for visiting and traveling back with me to the 60's. Today I hope to finish the Zoo Odyssey, but wanted to give a shout out to all of those who have made up the 1,048 visits to this blog site.  Thank you to those in Germany, South Korea, Thailand, Russia, France, the UK and those of you right here in the U S of A.

1048 THANKS

I'm sorry for leaving you hanging ... as you can see at least one of us had lots of training that would come in handy for the next part of this story. Who knew that  the ability to hold-on would be essential to their survival. 

We left off last time with Flea-Bait being suspiciously pushed off the ledge of the monkey habitat. In the words of Paul Harvey, "And now, the rest of the story."

 Desperate, Mom had just mixed all our names up (as she usually did) while invoking “The Clause.” (I'll stick with the alias' here).

“GustavBjornKnutLeifUlrikeorwhoever you are, (I was usually the "WhoEverYouAre" I thought that was my name until second grade when I got into trouble for putting it on top of my school papers.) 

With the Papal authority that went all the way back to Saint Peter, mom shouted, "Get down this instant - UNDER-PAIN-OF-MORTAL-SIN”

WELLLLLLLLLL.... Knut pushed and Flea-Bait fell into the anticipating clutches of the agitated monkeys below. (REMEMBER, THIS IS A TRUE STORY)

Flea-bait was a prize... something to be sniffed and prodded and examined and licked and tasted and adopted and fought over and owned. 

With a hundred monkeys climbing all over Flea-Bait and picking his head for lice...Knut knew that they had no intention of giving Flea-Bait back. My mother took the two girls and hid in the bushes about 50 feet away. 

Knut knew that if Flea-Bait died, then he was the one guilty of Murder and was now subject to Mortal Sin and would have to spend an additional billion years in Purgatory. ONLY. Only Knut couldn't reach far enough down into the Pit of Despair to rescue poor Flea-Bait and had to be lowered by his ankles by Mad Dog and Gustav. 

Every time Flea-Bait opened his mouth to scream for help monkey fingers went in. ONLY. Only when Flea-Bait discovered that one of fingers  wasn't really a finger, but a toe - he began to freak out.  He figured what ever foot this toe was attached to - had probably just been walking around in monkey dung and urine.

In shear terror that he would have to live with monkey pee-soaked-toes in his mouth for the rest of his life, Flea-Bait looked up with hope to the outstretched arms that were extended to him (holding back his own vomit).

With the aid of several other Dahlin Boys (and friends who had voluntarily squished themselves into the old Dodge station wagon for the Field Trip to the Zoo) Knut had been lowered far enough by his ankles to grab the outstretched arms of Flea-Bait. 

ONLY. Only there were a million monkeys crawling all over Flea-Bait! From up above, he looked like a piece of forgotten candy that had been covered in ants (Only monkeys. Only monkeys that didn't want to give him back). 

We had a problem!   There were too many of the little buggers.

So along with Gustav and Mad Dog, Liver lips, Chewy, Pinky, Dooh-Dooh Pants, and me... we all grabbed on and joined the tug-of war.

It was the monkeys on one end and the Viking Wolf Pack on the other end, with Knut and Flea-Bait stretched out like a piece of rope in the middle. (Told you that those hanging-on-skills would come in handy right?) We could hang with the best of monkeys.

 

We had all gone through monkey training  school and had bow staff mad skills 

We could not... would not lose! 

“Heave ho!” We all shouted in unison, giving one humungous jerk. “Si Se Puedes!” Chewy screamed. Four Eyes was with us but was completely useless - as usual. He sat down with his slide rule and tried to make some kind of formula as to how many Dahlins it would take to pull up Flea-Bait factoring in weight, total muscle mass and gravitational pull. 

 

By this time, sirens were blaring and blue lights flashing as Zoo security in faded green, electric carts rounded the sharp corner by the Gorilla statue.  Holding tranquilizer dart-guns as if they were going to war, this was their big chance to use guns that a zoo security guard rarely, if ever, got to use.

Later when my dad heard the story, he laughed, rolled his eyes, and then said something like, “Too bad they weren’t using real bullets.” 

Anyway, complete mayhem broke out in the zoo, and my mom stayed hidden in the bushes offering up prayers to Saint Francis.  

The 6,000 monkeys were just too heavy for us to lift poor Flea-Bait out of the monkey pit. 

This is when "IT" happened. 

(I thought for the sake of time I'd leave you hanging here - but it didn't think I could do it to you again). 

The very last monkey, anchoring the tug-of war, let go and climbed over the monkey in front of him and the monkey in front of that monkey, and the monkey in front of that one - and on and on until he reached Flea-Bait. He stood up on his feet and screamed something in monkey as he beat his chest (I'm not really fluent at translating monkey, but if I had to guess this brilliant little fella shouted "FREEDOM") then he took off over Knut, over Gustav, over Mad Dog, over Liver Lips, over Chewy, Pinky, Dooh-Dooh Pants and over me into the Zoo. 

The next to last monkey did the same thing: Over one monkey, then the next and the next until he reached Knut where he paused and took a whiff of  Knut's breath and acted as if he had almost fallen in love...(Knut wore a retainer and had really bad breath... the Monkey loved it) he stood up, beat his chest and shouted "FREEDOM" as he climbed over all the Dahlin boys and into the zoo. 

Monkey by monkey they all did the same thing... We. Us. The Dahlins!  WE HAD MANAGED TO LET EVERY SINGLE ONE of the MONKEYS OUT OF THE CAGE! 

Monkeys running riot, babies crying, angry men with tranquilizer guns, sirens blaring, food dropping, people screaming, Mrs D praying, girls hiding and Dahlins fleeing. 

Did anything like this every happen to your family? I want to know. Tell me about it!