Why is it that we remember past events to be so much more
wonderful than they really were?
Why can’t we remember our infancy?
Maybe these aren’t so unanswerable after all…
Good-bye Jacob, good luck.
All of a sudden, something occurred to me. In a crisis situation, Tree
would most likely escape to the part of the island where he was
sovereign. It was just an intuition I had, and I acted on it, barreling
down the rough landscape in search of the fugitive. I tripped and fell,
cutting my knee. This was clearly not my territory yet, but I could
learn.
An unfamiliar sound in the distance made me stop in my tracks.
I nearly lost my balance and grabbed onto a thick hanging vine for
support. It was the static chirp of a two-way radio. Hiding behind a
tree, I could just make out a group of men in flak jackets combing
through the foliage twenty yards below me. The investigation had
spread to the entire island. Afraid to move, I watched the operation
for a few minutes. It was bizarre how heavily armed they were. Tree
didn’t have any sort of weaponry, and even if he did, these guys
looked like they could subdue a small country. His vaunted T’ai Chi
would not provide him adequate protection.
One agent had an impossibly large mustache and was giving
most of the orders. He was wearing sunglasses despite that fact that
they were scouring a very overgrown, dark area. Suddenly, a violent
disruption occurred that sent the group into disarray. Through the
flurry of motion, I could barely make out what was happening. Then
I saw it: Siddhartha and his companions had ambushed the FBI
agents. The big white monkey was tearing at the face of the
mustachioed leader as he screamed “Get it off! Get it off!” The
monkey’s white fur was becoming spotted with the blood of the
agent, and three or four others were going to work on some of the
rest. I found myself silently cheering the crusading monkeys, until
some sharp noises cut through the air and echoed across the steep
inclines. Sid and the others seemed to have become frightened and
gave up their fight. They released their grips and mercifully let the
agents go. It wasn’t until they fell to the jungle floor and the bloodied
men eagerly stomped them with their boots that I realized they had
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
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