Lion-Country Safari.

LionCountrySafari.mp3

Summer is almost over when we piled into the Winnebago and headed out to Lion Country Safari. Dad’s been threatening to make this trip all summer, and we’ve been telling him there’s no fucking way we’re going. He’s been drunk pretty much all summer and the Winnie lost second gear on the way back from Burning Man but miracle of miracles, today’s the day and here we all are- as if we had anything better to do.
Luckily I have a half full bottle of valium that grandma dropped behind the toilet. Stuffed in a backpack Jeffy and PJ have a quarter pound of the best quality hydroponically grown Amsterdam hybrid money can get you- a particularly potent strain referred to simply as “Hogsbreath”. They also have a quarter ounce of Peruvian flake and four sheets of blotter acid in four separate zip-lock bags, one hidden in each shoe. Last year they were obsessed with model airplanes. This year it was just the glue.
Grandma has been holding a one sided conversation with grandpa for seven months, since about a week after his death. The Winnebago was grandpa’s pride and joy and despite it’s age he kept it clean and well serviced with a fully stocked bar. The Winnie was also the instrument of his demise, as it was she that rolled off the jacks and came to a rest on top of him as he attempted to lubricate the rear end, which come to think of it is an awfully Freudian way to go.
So dad is carrying on a semi-intelligible monologue, weaving this big boat out Pacific Coast Highway, driving by Braille. He seems to accept the brief moments when he passes dead center as perfect driving but really he spends most of the time well off the actual roadway, barking out short bursts of sinister laughter at the terrified looks in the eyes of both the oncoming traffic as well as pedestrians well off of the roadway. Grandma has a terrified look too, clutching her Pomeranian, Barfy, and mumbling to grandpa like she does. I don’t know if it’s her usual terrified look that she gets when she has the squirts or a result of witnessing a businessman on a Harley Davidson glance off of the front left fender a block back. Conditions lead me to assume that it’s a combination of both.
Mom is passed out in a lithium haze on the bed in the back of the Rv but I think PJ and Jeffy wedged her between the mattress and the sidewall of the Winnie when they started to really come on to the sheets of blotter in their shoes. It’s tough to keep the zip-locks closed when you’re pulling your shoes on and it’s hot in the Winnie with a family of six. Plus both of them had to walk through an inch of piss in the bathrooms at the chevron just off Santa Monica Boulevard.
PJ was the first to realize they were in over their heads when dad nearly took out a traffic cop giving a citation on the side of the road and grandma jumped up, screamed and cut the cheese so loud and so hard that the dog yelped and hid under the driver’s seat.
If Barfy found that alarming he had no idea how close to his own mortality he really was. Driving into Lion Country Safari we passed several signs that stated in no uncertain terms that dogs weren’t allowed in the park, but dad figured that a tiny Pom wouldn’t be any big deal and he force fed Barfy a shot of Crown Royal to keep him quiet and stuffed him in the glove box while the ranger had a look around.
This proved to be less than prudent as Jeffy, peaking on an undetermined amount of high quality blotter acid, chose to “liberate” the Pomeranian back to the wild- just to see how it would react in it’s natural habitat.
Surprisingly enough Barfy actually held his own for a bit, standing his full 9 inches tall and yapping ferociously as the lions paced and slunk in a circle thirty feet out. We were all pretty amazed at the speed he got up to and really I thought he had a chance until he had to slow and corner at the end of the fence, where a lion made up some ground and eviscerated poor Barfy with a quick shake of the head, hurling the aft parts off into the weeds and landing the fore parts across the windshield face-first directly in front of Jeffy and PJ. Sitting in the front bench seat they both let out a low “Hol-ee fuck.” simultaneously and then returned to the back of the vehicle where they stayed and smoked furiously throughout the balance of the trip until we reached the Bob’s Big Boy on Hollywood Boulevard.

LionCountrySafari.mp3