3

"I hate riding on this thing," Pig says clinging to the back of the summersault-cloud. 

"Then tell me where he is?"

"Who?"

"Tang Sanzang."

"How the hell should I know?"

Monkey swoops down, does a couple of loops then straightens out. Pig's cheeks swell and his face starts to sweat.

"Memphis! Anything to get me on the ground."

In no time Monkey is hopping off the cloud onto the stone embankment of the Mississippi as Pig tumbles in the river, lets out a gurgled, "Help" then rights himself and swims ashore.

"You did that on purpose," he says shaking off.

They walk along the rough cobblestone that turns to smooth sidewalk as it snakes its ways through a manicured park, jungle gyms, swing sets and brass plaques describing the history of something that neither of them stops to read.

"We'll have to transform," Monkey says looking at a couple heading towards them.

"Nah," Pig says handing him a pair of sunglasses. "Just put these on." The couple walks by both staring at their phones. "See? You don't need disguises anymore." 

"Then why are we wearing sunglasses?" 

"They make us look cool."

"You're an idiot."

"Fine. But you're going to have to follow this idiot if you want to find Tang Sanzang," he says pointing his meaty Pig hand.

          A giant silver pyramid 
          cuts through the sky
          a triangular shadow falling on the
          white and black pickups
          littering the lot
          boats on trailers with names like
          Serenity and Windsong
          parked in rows
          among the landscaped evergreens
          and soft petalled pansies
          stuck in piles of brown mulch
          Monkey and Pig
          stare at the Bass Pro Sign
          hung below the
          glass blue tip
          piercing
          the cloudless sky 

"Tang Sanzang is at Bass Pro?" 

"No. What? Why would he be here?"

Monkey looks confused. "Is this the royal palace?"

Pig laughs. "I forget you've been gone so long. There aren't kings anymore. There' no King of..." He thinks it over, "actually there is a King of Memphis." They walk through the lot. Pig stops to rummage around the back of a pickup, looks in the window, tries to open the door,  then gives up and keeps walking. "This isn't a palace. It's a failed sports arena they converted into a Bass Pro. My friend Rob works at Uncle Bucks." He looks to see if Monkey is following along. "That's the restaurant here. He was the last person to see Friar Sand and Friar Sand was the last person to talk to Tang Sanzang, so..."

Monkey frowns as they push through the glass doors, past the doorman working the turn style who is furiously responding to AlphaDog54 on Twitter and into the depths of the outdoor adventure land. Pig walks off to find his friend while Monkey takes a look around. 

There's a small countrified city built inside with a stand-alone elevator lit in blue lights that shoots all the way to the top. Monkey walks along and looks at the fishing poles and hats and binoculars and boats and sunglasses, life jackets, knee boots and pink camouflage shotguns till he gets to the crocodile pool. Two crocodiles are encased in a glass-walled faux rock landscape that swoops around disappearing behind the elevator. They're laying on top of each other in the water looking up at Monkey and Monkey looks back unsure if they're acknowledging each other or if they want to bite his head off.

He walks past the aquarium, a thousand fish all keeping their distance from one another to a mountain with two regal rams. A grizzly bear stands on two legs beneath them, its arms half raised, mouth open, looking toward the door.

"What kind of magic is this?" Monkey says marveling as he sees two black bears, also frozen, walking along the top edge of the aquarium.

"It's taxidermy," Pig says walking up eating a waffle cone and wearing a real tree jacket. "Come on. Let's go."

Monkey follows close behind as Pig saunters out the door and down the street pointing at things that Monkey doesn't pay attention to.

"They worship me like a god here," he hears Pig repeat again this time a little louder pointing at a pink cement pig in front of two large windows which Monkey walks up to and peers inside. Families sit around small wooden tables breaking apart ribs, stuffing hunks of meat in their mouths, smiling and talking happily.

"How long have you been back?" Pig asks standing behind Monkey taking a bite of his waffle cone.

"Not long."

"I see you've got one of those fancy new phones." 

"This?" Monkey says pulling it out and turning it over in his hands. "I fought and killed a demon to get this. It can make music spring out of the air."

"That's a phone and about every idiot in the world has one," Pig says. "I thought I was the stupid one."

Monkey frowns as they keep walking, Pig pointing things and explaining as they go. "This is a bank," he says standing in front of Bank of America. "It's a place people put their money but it's not like gold or anything, more like that fake spirit money people used to burn." 

"Monks are not supposed to carry money."

Pig ignores him and continues. "And this is a coffee shop. This is where you go when you first meet a woman online and she wants to make sure you're not a psychopath. People also take their computers here for some reason."

"Monks are not allowed to have sex." Monkey looks in. "And you are a psychopath."

"I'm not saying it's what I do. Just what people do. I'm trying to educate you here."

They walk a little further.

"Oh and here's a bar. This is where you go at night. You sit in this loud room and drink and talk over the music that's playing but you can't hear anything. I don't know why people like this but they REALLY like it. Most of the time you're just leaning across the table shouting, 'What?' at the other person and then afterwards you make out. I don't get it, but it's what you do." 

They take a couple turns and find themselves on Beale Street.

"Ok, so this is where tourists go. Tourists are these people that get in airplanes," he looks over to Monkey, "these metal tubes that fly in the sky to other places and then they mostly just drink and take lots of pictures and then they go home. They're everywhere. Look there's one," he says pointing to an older couple who has talked another older couple into taking their photo in front of a neon sign smiling and making the peace symbol.

Monkey looks out and sees,

          Tourists in Tommy Bahama shirts
          drinking out of long plastic tubes 
          bright strawberry lime
          slurping through fluorescent curly straws
          the sun setting
          as the streets emerge
          and a halo of noise  
          blossoms from their mouths
          as inflatable pink flamingos
          pass over the counter
          thin plastic glasses stuffed inside
          as the loud blues guitar 
          mixes
          with screams 
          of joy

"So, you remember in the old days when we would pass through a province, we would have to pay respects to the king and they would stamp our papers?"

"Of course," Monkey says dodging a drunk couple holding each other up. "What about it?"

"Like I was saying earlier. There is a King of Memphis. We should pay our respects before we go any further."

"Fine," Monkey says. "But we don't have any papers to stamp."

"Not a problem," he says turning down a side street. 

They walk a little further till they're standing in front of Graceland, the stone wall curling around the massive yard, iron gates with musical notes welded in place, twin guitar players on either side. Pig hops over the fence as Monkey follows surveying the grounds, the rows of flowers lining the driveway shimmer as darkness descends turning the trees black against the dark blue of the sky.  

They get to the front steps of the house and Monkey pushes on the door.

"It's locked."

"Then open it," Pig says looking around. "Quickly."

Monkey waves his hand, the lock springs open and they walk in. All the lights are off. Pig closes it behind them as Monkey steps over the ropes and walks into the white carpeted living room, over to the white piano next to the white and gold television, walks back and stops in front of a painting of a young man with slick dark hair, thick eyebrows raised questioningly.

"The King," Pig says.

"Where is he?" Monkey asks.

"This way."

Monkey follows him through a narrow hallway and down a mirrored ceiling staircase to a room of great splendor. 

          A black sofa in a giant U
          with white and yellow throw pillows
          stacked neatly
          like crackers
          black and yellow walls
          painted clouds
          with rigid lightning bolts
          jutting out
          as three televisions
          in wood paneling
          cast a soft blue light
          on the ceramic white monkey
          that sits on the mirrored coffee table
          next to the ashtray and glass globe of seashells
          reflecting their shadows
          in its black eyes

"I'm taking him," Monkey says stepping over the ropes and heading straight for the coffee table. He picks up the ceramic white statue and holds it out like one might examine a baby then tucks it under his arm and heads back to Pig.

"Where you think you're goin' with my monkey, Monkey," the ghost of Elvis says. He looks up from the black sectional strumming his guitar, occasionally stopping to tune it, then strumming again. Monkey spins around pulls his gold banded cudgel from behind his ear, grows it as large as the 70's spider lamp in the corner and points it at Elvis's head, one hand gripping the cudgel, the other cradling the Monkey statue.

"I'm a lover not a fighter," Elvis says stopping for a moment to smile at Monkey. "Come on now. Sit down and enjoy some of that famous southern hospitality you've heard so much about...unless you wanna brawl, but then," he says slicking his hair back, "we gotta go outside."

Monkey looks back at Pig, who shrugs and steps over the ropes and sits down on the other side of the U-shaped sectional so they're facing each other. Monkey shrinks his cudgel, puts it behind his ear and sits next to Pig.

"Just my luck that the supernatural beings I'm visited by are a hideous looking Monkey and fat ugly Pig," Elvis says. "Couldn'tve been a couple of lovely ladies who're down to worship the King, know what I mean?" He continues to strum his guitar stopping again to tune it, "God dang it. Just can't seem to get this girl soundin' right," and then, "So I suppose you know who I am but you have me at a loss. Can't say I'd forget these two faces."

Monkey sits up grinning and says, "I'm the Handsome Monkey King, The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, King of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit. Sun Wukong. The Fighting Buddha...."

"Handsome Monkey king, huh?" Elvis says looking him up and down. "Quite a title for someone that looks like their face went through a meat grinder. "Suppose you might look a bit better in one of my fine suits, but then again, as they say, 'You can put lipstick on a pig..." he trails off strumming and humming a few bars of Love Me Tender. 

"I don't wear lipstick," Pig says not understanding. 

"You might look a bit better if you did," Monkey says laughing.

"Yeah, whaddya say lil piggy. Let the King put some lipstick on you."

"He is the King," Monkey says prodding. 

Pig does not have time to respond. Elvis has already thrown his guitar on the couch, dug through his pocket, pulled out a tube of red lipstick and is hovering over him, his large frame eclipsing the overhead light. "I won't hurt you. Now stick your lips out for the King." Pig squirms as Elvis descends on him with the protruding lipstick smashing against Pig's greasy lips smearing it around in a circle of red. "Come on now. Stop moving. The King's gonna make you pretty." Elvis finishes then stands back to examine his work. Not happy, he pulls an Elvis wig out of nowhere and places it on Pig's head. Adjusts it a few times then seems happy. Finally, he turns to Monkey. "We're gonna have to do somethin' special for you too. Don't you worry," he says walking over to one of the yellow cabinets and rummaging through before pulling out a white sequined jumpsuit, "The ladies ain't gonna touch you in those Zubaz's you're wearin'."

"I am not putting that on," Monkey protests. 

Pig smiles. 

"Listen here baby. This is how this works. I'm not just the King of Rock n' Roll. I'm the King of all the ghosts and demons this side of the Mississippi so if you wanna travel unencumbered, you need my autograph, and you ain't getting it until I see this here monkey dressed like a little Elvis. Got this thing ever since I died of seeing people dressed up like me. Not much to do as a ghost you know. Not to mention you two snuck in here and tried to pilfer my monkey that I see you still don't seem in a hurry to let go of, so if you want The King's forgiveness and if you need my signature to ease your travels, then, well, you're gonna have to put it on," Elvis says walking over to Monkey and holding a child's size white sequined suit up to him. "I am after all a simple man with simple pleasures and I just think it'd be so darn funny to see this hairy little ape put one of these on for me." He extends the outfit to Monkey.

Monkey doesn't move.

"Well I know how you feel. I ain't trying to degrade you or nuthin' and this ain't just for my particular kinda fancy. I like you, you hairy little freak," Elvis says smiling at Monkey, "and this is my way of sayin', well, I have demons livin' in plain sight all over the US of A, dressing like me, acting like me and fittin' right in. Thousand Fists of the Kung Fu Kings, if ya heard of us," Elvis says raising his eyebrows and looking back and forth at Monkey and Pig, "Well, probably not. You boys don't seem to be from around here." He sits back down on the couch, picks up his guitar and then to Monkey, "So what I'm saying is, if you put that outfit on you'll be inducted into a special brotherhood that comes with a few perks. If you ever find yourself on the wrong end of the stick, if your life's in danger or if you just want The King to come by and say hi, all you need to do is raise that porcelain monkey high in the air and smash it on the ground and ol' Elvis will come to the rescue. So...well...here we are, me playin' my guitar offering you a chance to expand your circle as it were, and you sitting there holding my monkey. Gentlemen, what's it gonna be?"

Monkey and Pig sit on a bench outside Graceland. Cars drive by and the occasional person leans out of the passenger side window and yells. Monkey sits wearing a white jumpsuit holding the white ceramic statue with Elvis's signature scrawled across his belly. Pig is next to him wearing a black wig tilted to the side, red lips and large gold glasses. They sit in silence for a while before Monkey without turning says, "If I ever hear you mention this to another living soul..."

Pig nods, takes a drag of a cigarette, his lips staining the butt pink then says, "We need to find someplace to sleep tonight," throws it on the ground smashing it with his hoof. "I think I know a place that could work."

In no time Monkey and Pig are walking into an abandoned house, pushing open the door, turning the couches right side up and making a spot to sleep. Monkey jumps up and smashes a giant hole through the ceiling, finds a pallet leaning against the sink in the kitchen and a used tire in the bathroom. He breaks up the pallet, arranges the wood inside the tire right above the gaping hole in the roof then looks around for something to light it with. Pig reaches down his throat and rummages around, pulls out his ceremonial lighter and hands it over to Monkey with his best fake smile he can muster. Monkey pays no attention and lights it, sits back and looks into the flames. 

Pig finds a place on the other side of the fire, unfolds a lawn chair and sits down tossing the wig and glasses on the floor and wiping the lipstick off smearing it down the side of his face. Monkey shrinks the ceramic statue and puts it in his pouch. They both say nothing as they stare into the flames.

"How long have you been back," Pig says finally. "You never answered me."

Monkey still doesn't answer. Pig looks down. There are dozens of crayon packs on the floor. He picks one up, opens the cardboard top and pulls out a purple one, sticks it in the fire and it sizzles and crackles and burns. Monkey looks up. Pig throws a pack over to him and they both sit around the fire throwing crayons and watching them spark and crackle.

"Did you do better or worse than I did out here," Pig says finally. Monkey's face hardens and looks away. "That bad, huh?" Pig says looking down. 

"You seem to have gotten smarter at being an idiot," Monkey finally shoots back. "Are you sorry for the things you've done?"

Pig tosses the rest of the crayons in the fire and leans back in his chair.

"I want to be, but, honestly, if you dropped me off and left me on my own, I'd go back to doing the same thing. I'm a demon after all. I used to think I could be better. I thought I was learning some kind of lesson, but when they made me 'Cleaner of the Heavenly Altar' or whatever stupid title they gave me, I just knew I was either going to be a really bad monk or a really good demon, and, you know, it feels good doing something well."

Monkey watches his last crayon crackle and burn then looks up at Pig through the flames.

"Then I guess I'll have to kill you at the end of this."

Pig lets out a heavy sigh and rests his hands on his stomach.

"I guess so."

2

In no time Monkey is flying over rolling hills and mountainous ridges scanning the valleys dotted with small houses, trailers and carports. He hovers above a gas station that's also a Godfather's pizza, hops down from his summersault-cloud on to the hot asphalt, turns into a fly, buzzes past a row of pickup's then sticks to the window advertising cheese fries and a 40 oz coke as a group of teenagers stumble out the door laughing and showing each other their phones. He watches as they load into a car, shouts "Change!", turns into the kid with the stringy blond hair wearing the Megadeath shirt and walks inside. This is what he sees,

             A large woman in floral print
             stands behind the counter           
             pink petals 
             covering the hills and valleys
             a pepperoni pizza
             glistening 
             under lamp light
             rotates 
             as the tiny motor 
             inside
             keeps turning

"I'm looking for Pig," Monkey says walking up to the lady. "He runs a camp around here. Have you seen him?"

"Only pigs I know are cut up and on sale at the Food Lion up the street," she says pointing to the large display of 5 hour energy drinks behind her.

Monkey nods and looks at the small television wedged in the corner. Flames burn across the screen as it switches to a newscaster interviewing a woman and her three kids, a hard cut to commercial then a trailer for the latest superhero movie. Monkey leans in to watch as a guy made of lightning gets kicked in the face. The music swells dramatically as he punches through a sea of bad guys then it's over and there's a woman with her hands on her hips staring at her cat. A magical bald genie appears and the green mist that's covering her apartment disappears with a sweep of his hand. Monkey loses interest, pushes open the door and walks outside.  A white horse is standing where the red pickup had been, gives a snort then shakes its head.

"White dragon?" he says extending his hand and stroking its neck. The horse does not respond. Just looks forward, picks up its foot and sets it down.

"Touchin' another man's horse liable get you shot."

Monkey wheels around to see a man slumped on the sidewalk in blue jeans, jean jacket and a worn blue jean hat covered in gold pins wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a bulldog, big red text offset to the side that says, 'In dog beers I've only had one.'

"I'm just fuckin' with you," he says. "It IS my horse though. Wanna drink?"

Monkey walks over, sits down and takes a drink. 

"This is the first time someone's offered me something since I've been here," Monkey says handing it back. "In my day, wherever we went, people would take us in, fix us food and give us room and board. It was a sign of respect for the work we were doing."

"In yer day? What're you 15? Shut the fuck up with that already."

Monkey looks at the man, thinks about pounding him into the ground then instead, "I'm looking for someone. He runs a camp around here. Have you seen him?"

"Oh, you mean those hippie faggots that prance around in the hills by the old Boy Scout Camp doin' their witchy look-at-me I'm wearing some fuckin' fairy wings with my tits out and I drive my parent's Jeep with a bunch of save the planet bumper stickers plastered all over my god damn window so I can't see out the back when I'm driving like an asshole and don't even wave when you pass me on my horse?"

Monkey scratches his head. "These do sound like the people I'm looking for." He thinks for a moment. "Do they like to lie around, eat and do nothing all the time?"

The man's eye grow wide.

"ARE YOU KIDDIN' ME? That's all they do besides their poly I'll just take any old dick or pussy but please for the love of god I better not get one ounce of GLUTEN on my tongue or my god damn heads gonna explode lousy good for nuthin' son's a bitches here have some my hot pocket I gotta pee."

The man stands, unzips his fly and turns his back and this is what Monkey sees,

            One hand
            against the wall
            holds the weight of a man
            peeing next to the ice bins
            with red letters
            so cold
            icicles hang
            as golden streams form a puddle
            that trickles in the weeds
            as the laughter of two teenagers
            and the steam of the hot pocket
            carry across the yellow lines of
            the Godfathers 
            parking lot 

"They call me Mike," he says zipping up his pants and sitting back down. "What's yer name?"

"Sun Wokung. The Handsome Monkey King. Great Sage Equal to Heaven. King of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit."

Mike takes another drink. 

"Well I'm gonna call ya Tom." He pats Monkey on the back. "Now Tom if you wanna find those low-life do nuthin but harp on how everybody's not glistenin' with the high holy spiritual fuck magic that seems to grace their perfect blonde heads I tell ya where to find 'em but," he raises a finger, "BUT you gotta promise me somethin' Tom." He pushes the bottle over to Monkey offering another drink. "You gotta PROMISE ME that in two weeks I'm not gonna see you down here prancin' and dancin' to some swimmy swammy voodoo trance music with yer shirt unbuttoned wearing one of those polka dot hats talking like someone just shoved a little Asian man up yer ass and now yer blabbing the same ying-yang-yong look at my drugged-out scorpio girlfriend with crystals and glitter all over her body like a god damn disco ball, do you hear what I'm saying?"

"Where are they?" Monkey asks impatiently standing and turning back to his true form.

"I'm gonna tell ya. I'm gonna TELL ya Tom, but first I gotta say and I don't know if it's the whiskey, the hot pocket, the sun baking my brains or all three, but GOD DAMN you got a lot uglier since I met you."

Monkey grows thirty feet tall, a fiery aura burns around him as he pulls his cudgel from behind his ear and points it down at Mike and in a booming voice with flames shooting as tall as the hills that scorch the power lines and cause all the lights to flicker for miles, "WHERE ARE THEY!?!"

Mike looks up, takes a drink and screws the cap back on then wipes his mouth. "Off BB highway. Second right after Caseys."

Monkey doesn't waste a second and is off on his summersault-cloud flying past the highway and over a couple of cabins nestled in the woods. He swoops down lower and sees two people sunbathing on a blanket, lands and approaches, smiling and waving. A plump girl with a stretched out yin yang tattooed across her belly raises her head. The man, in dark shades and nothing else, does not move. Monkey stands over them grinning happily.

"I've heard an old friend of mine runs a camp up here. His name's Zhu Bajie or Zhu Wuneng or sometimes just Pig."

The girl leaning back on her elbows picks up a handmade ceramic cup filled with a strange liquid that has seeds and stems floating on top, takes a sip then as she puts it back down, "What's wrong with your face?" Monkey cocks his head and smiles so she can see every one of his teeth. "You're...the ugliest person I've ever seen."

"Savannah!" the guy says leaning up. "That's not a respectful way to talk to strangers."

"I thought we were practicing radical truthfulness Brad? I speak my truth now," she says turning back to Monkey. "I manifest the light in my life and I speak the truth to all beings I meet that were once lost like myself," she says touching her breast, "That's what The Master teaches us," and then turning to Brad, "Let's take him to The Master and see if he'll accept him into The Seven Circles. He says he knows him," and then turning back to Monkey, "You must've had such a hard life being so ugly."

"I've fought a lot of demons."

"I bet you have," she says reaching out to touch Monkey's hand which he reluctantly lets her do.

Brad does not look so sure but is unable to come up with an excuse quick enough and even though he was sure he was finally going to get to sleep with her, he sighs, folds up his blanket and walks toward the cabin, his tattooed butt with concentric circles and ancient runes leading the way. As Monkey enters the camp this is what he sees,

            People of all shapes
            walking naked
            talking with each other
            as the bumblebees buzz
            and the peonies
            planted in front of the Great Lodge
            dip low to the ground
            the ants in black rows
            crawling green stalks 
            as the sweat of an entire camp
            hangs in the air
            and Debbie
            who's just emerged from her cabin
            talks excitedly to Suzanne
            telling her about how 
            Darren
            gave Jessica
            a UTI

"Wait here," Brad says to Monkey as he walks the steps to the Great Lodge and knocks lightly on the door, a Native American owl painted on both sides so that when you open it the face is split. One side cracks and a bald head pops out looking agitated as he quietly over-pronounces, "We. Are. In. Session."

Brad whispers in his ear and the man jerks his head toward Monkey, gives him a hard look then pushes the door shut, walks down the main aisle through men and women sitting on their plush pink cushions, up the stairs where The Master is sitting, bows repeatedly and says in his ear, "There's a hairy ugly man outside who says he knows you and would like to be permitted in The Great Lodge."

The Master nods with understanding. The bald man knows not to rush him though he does purse his lips and flare his nostrils in anticipation. Finally, The Master leans over and asks, "Does this hairy man have the face of a Thunder God and carry a gold banded cudgel?"

The bald man thinks for a moment and then whispers back, "I don't know what any of that means."

The Master nods again, takes a pipe from his ceremonial pipe stand, picks up his lighter from his ceremonial lighter stand and then smokes a few puffs before setting it down on his ceremonial smoking-pipe stand decorated in red and gold fabric with intertwining circles of immense spirituality. He picks up his pipe again, takes another smoke then starts coughing as his bald helper takes the pipe and puts it out, gently pats him on the back before asking, "Would you like some water?" The Master waves him off, catches his breath. 

"Let him in. All are welcome to hear The Truth."

The bald man gives a tight little smile then walks back down the aisle scanning the parishioners for any infractions as he quickly makes his way to the front door, cracks it, beckons them with a wave, sternly points to a few empty cushions in the back then puts his finger to his lips before sitting down himself. Monkey is happy to oblige and plops down and assumes the same serious position everyone else is in. 

            The Master sits on stage
            filled with succulents
            and complex geometry
            feathers and furs
            crystals on crystals
            with a guitar on one side
            and a woman dutifully bowing
            on the other
            his Jesus hair flowing
            white linens billowing in the breeze
            from the fan he's pointed at himself
            his silence speaks the volumes
            his followers read in their sleep
            as he smokes his pipe
            and ponders the nature
            of everyone else's
            existence

"Thank you for coming. I'm so humbled by your presence. Let's give thanks before we begin. Let's give thanks to this beautiful hall and this beautiful food and all you beautiful people," he says with a smile. A few laugh and then resume seriousness. "Let's give thanks for the farmers in the field that grew the plants and the workers who picked it. Let's thank the construction workers who built this cabin and made it possible to be sitting here with you. Most importantly let's give thanks for thanking. There is so much to be thankful for and it's amazing to be able to thank the thanking." The crowd in unison chants, "We shall all thank the thanking." The Master bows then rises. "Does everyone have their astrology tarot decks?" People all around start pulling cards out of purple velvet pouches carefully setting them in front of their mat. Everyone except Monkey. "It looks like we need a deck for the man in back," The Master says motioning to the bald helper who quickly gets to his feet, bows hurriedly and fast-walks over to place a deck in front of Monkey's cushion then whispers, "We'll settle up after class."

"If he has no money, it's no problem. Let's not have money get in the way of an emerging consciousness," The Master says opening his arms wide, "and a new consciousness is emerging. For too long we've been shackled by society, forced to hide behind these 'identities' we've been given. But no longer. Here we learn to unlearn. We unburden ourselves from the horrors of our past by shedding the remnants of a dying society, by opening ourselves to mother earth, feeling her breath on our skin as we remove our clothes and expose our true bodies to the world."

Monkey looks as the parishioners remove their robes and stand up naked. Monkey only has his tiger striped pants and red sash. He stands but doesn't take them off. Everyone sits down and Monkey sits as The Master continues, "Now we don't just unburden ourselves with our worldly possessions. We also unburden ourselves with our pasts. Who here among us wants to offer up a story to the group and have it consumed in the fire of our collective consciousness?"

Savannah's hand shoots up and everyone turns to look. The Master winces then says, "Savannah again. Ok Savannah what do you have to tell us?"

"I just wanted to say that I'm so thankful to be here among all of you," she says looking around and smiling at everyone, "and also I'm so thankful for thanking." She bows when she says this last part, "and I just wanted to say that before I came here I had a family that made me feel ashamed about who I was. They made me feel bad for not doing well in school and in making a lot of BAD," she makes air quotes" choices like drinking and partying too much. ANYWAY, I thought a lot of bad things about myself. You know, like I called myself a slut and things like that but being here has taught me to embrace my true self," she says wrapping her arms around herself, "and now cause of you I know that I AM a slut and I'm not ashamed and it just feels so great to express myself with all of you, in that way."

"That's great Savannah," The Master says scanning his eyes across the crowd, "Does anyone else want to..."

"Oh and just one more thing," she says half raising her hand again, "I forgot to mention my grandma. I'm just so thankful that she's taking care of my kids while I'm here working on myself and doing a lot of processing and getting to know who I really am because without her I'd still be stuck in the patriarchy and it just feels so good to relinquish that burden and be free to do the work I need to do, and yeah, so I just wanted to thank the universe for providing that path for me as I continue my journey."

"Thank you Savannah," The Master says bowing.

"And you know she's just such an amazing woman. My grandma. She worked in a chicken plant so my mom could go to college and my mom became a doctor and did really well and then she died when I was sixteen which was hard and I'm still doing a lot of processing about THAT and then my grandpa died and he worked a lot too, you know, in the patriarchy, and he used to take me to see movies on Sundays after church and I always remember he'd wear this blue checked shirt cause he was real conservative, like he watched FOX news and stuff but I loved him anyway cause he's my grandpa, do you know what I mean?"

"Yes. I think we all know what you mean Savannah. Thank you for unburdening yourself."

"I just...I just..." and in her stutter she starts to feel something. "I just always felt like there was something wrong with me. Even from a young age I was looking for this thing, you know, that I could fix and every time I tried to do right I'd fail and I'd try to change," tears start welling, "I really would. I'd sit there and say to myself, Savannah," her voice cracks, "you're gonna figure this out and it's like every time I think I have a hold of somethin' it just disappears you know?" She pulls the tears back, wipes her eyes with her bare arm. "Like you're so SURE you've got it and you're being good and then you take your eyes away for one second and it's gone. You're just holding onto nothin'. You know what I mean?"

The Master picks his pipe up of the ceremonial pipe stand, lights it and takes a few puffs. "Thank you for that Savannah. I think you've given all of us something to think about." He puffs a few more puffs. "Why don't we all bow our heads and chant as Savannah comes up to receive the blessing. "Savannah?" he says raising his hand, his palm facing toward himself, beckoning. 

As she jumps off her pillow everyone bows their heads and starts chanting in a strange language. Savannah stands naked before The Master hands clasped, eyes teary and closed as the chanting gets louder and someone starts banging a gong sending waves reverberating through the room. A few people caught up in the spirit stand, raise their hands, do a little dance on their cushion like they're caressing the air over and over.  Savannah also starts to dance though she's suddenly shy and all she can manage is to sway back and forth, the only dance move she's ever learned. The Master makes sure everyone is deep in the trance of their enlightenment then in a flash of bright blue light transforms into his true form.

            A monstrous sweaty pig
            with stiff black hairs 
            growing from his back
            his snout wrinkly and old
            small dark eyes
            peer out among folds of flesh
            giant wet tusks
            gleam in the light
            as Pig opens his mouth
            exposing his bulbous purple tongue
            and the blackness of his throat
            envelopes the girl
            as his jaws snap shut
            swallowing her
            Whole

Monkey jumps to his feet, pulls the needle behind his ear and grows it into his gold banded cudgel. 

"Demon pig! How dare you eat that girl!"

"I eat who I want!" Pig yells reaching toward the altar in front of him, a beautiful display of red, purple, green and white flowers laid out with careful intention. A long wood pole in the middle juts out painted in a swirly pattern that reaches up to heaven. He grabs the pole, lifts his nine pronged rake, the sharp teeth hidden underneath the petals, and leaps in the air, lands on the giant wooden beam in the arched ceiling of The Great Lodge. "You're not the only one with magic powers you ugly macaw," Pig shouts as he blows on his rake and the prongs turn red, waves it around, says some magic words and a cascading shower of complex geometry falls onto the succulents and crystals below.

The glowing crystals embed themselves in the succulent vines that shoot out lashing at his fur wrapping around his cudgel. Monkey fends them off as Pig whirls his rake around, the prongs turning pink and the bodies of all the naked followers glow with the same strange light as they stand and swarm Monkey gnashing at his fur, biting anything they can fit in their mouths.

Overwhelmed by the flopping boobs, armpits, legs and elbows flailing and stinking and clawing, Monkey grabs the people by their necks and pops off their heads, throws them at Pig all the while cursing and screaming, "You dirty pig! I'm going to rip you apart when I get a hold of you!"

"Demon Monkey!" Pig yells back swatting the heads with his nine pronged rake, a few embedding on his prongs. Running out of things to throw Monkey leaps up as Pig dives down, opens his mouth and swallows him in one bite. Monkey, in the blackness of Pig's stomach, starts ripping and tearing it apart, yelling and cursing as Pig rolls around on the floor smashing the decapitated bodies with his belly, crying and begging him to stop.

"How many people have you eaten? How many will I find in here?"

"Please, brother Monkey," Pig begs, "I only ate a few."

Monkey stops then shouts, "Open up. I'm coming out."

Pig opens his mouth and Monkey leaps out, turns just in time for Pig to bring his nine pronged rake down on his head. The floor cracks open and Monkey is pushed deep into the ground, quickly makes a spell with his fingers while saying the magic words and turns himself into a star-nosed mole that digs through the earth tearing up the foundation. Pig furiously smashes with his rake as the trail of cracks forms around him. As the ground crumbles Monkey pops up, turns back into this true form, grabs one of the massive wood pillars of the Great Lodge, rips it out of its metal casing and uses it as a club to bring down on Pig who's flattened underneath as the entire building collapses leaving a pile of rubble with dying succulents, arms and legs and the occasional shard of pink crystal sticking out.

A brief moment of silence before Monkey and Pig emerge, teeth-gnashing, eyes inflamed, hands ready to mangle, reaching for each other's throat. Pig lands on top and with his enormous size pushes him to the ground, but Monkey wriggles free, grabs hold of his tusks, pries open his mouth and shoves the rocks and wood planks, arms and legs, anything he can grab with his little monkey hands. Pig squeals, tries to wrestle away but Monkey's got him by the tusks and won't let go as he shoves the last stone and finger and shattered ceramic pot then leaps into the air and comes down hard on his belly, jumping up and down as Pig shrieks. 

"Have you had your fill, you greedy idiot?!"

"I give up!" Pig says dropping his rake. Monkey stops jumping but remains standing on his belly. 

"I'd have killed you five times if I didn't need your help."

"What do you need my help for?" Pig says panting, "I'm an old pig now. Why don't you let me enjoy myself and live out a well-deserved retirement?"

"You're eating people again!"

"Like you've never eaten anyone," Pig says rolling himself to his side as Monkey hops off. "Besides, I only ate a few." He surveys the damage. "You just killed a seventy-three people. Look at this place. Who are you to lecture?" 

Pig changes back to his true form and this is what Monkey sees,

            Bare pig feet
            splayed up to heaven
            a man's body
            shoved in blue jeans
            with a giant pink belly
            heaving with sighs
            a white t-shirt stretched to
            translucence
            and on top of all of it
            a hideous hog head
            wet and smeared with dirt

"Get up," Monkey instructs as he walks over to the rake and tosses it. Pig lets it fall on top of him and roll to the side. He lies there staring up at the sky then slowly, painfully, picks up the rake, lifts himself leaning heavily on the handle and says, "I'm not an immortal like you. I've just gotten fatter, stupider and lazier."

"I know," Monkey says, "But I can't do this without you."

"What's so god damn important that it's worth all of this?" Pig asks getting to his feet.

"I'll explain on the way," Monkey says hopping on his summersault-cloud. Pig pulls his way up as Monkey scans through his sleek gold rectangle. 

"What're you doing?" 

Monkey pays no attention and finally settles on "Back in Black" as the music blares and the cloud lifts in the air. 

"This is America," he says as the guitar counts off the rhythm, "Everything important is done to music."