JC and The Elephant
Part 1 of a Series

By Don Adams © Don Adams 2004

Hey, Tatts. What's up at City Hall?

Good morning Jimmy Ray. Welcome home. How was PV?

Loud, busy, expensive. The usual. The crowd?

Oh, they're just attempting to get Juan Carlos outside so they can kill him.

Again? Sooner or later he's gonna figger out that runnin for mayor wasn't the best move he coulda made. Oh, buenas días Rosa. Desayuno, favor. Tres huevos, tocino al lado, frijoles, tortillas de maize, y café de olla. Gracias. I see the priest is a bit worked up too. What's the crime?

We're not sure yet; probably petty larceny.

Si chica, revueltos. Death for petty larceny?

Well what was larcened was the village treasury.

JC stole the town's money?

No, not technically. He used it to purchase an elephant.

Elephant.

A dead elephant.

Dead elephant. Uh, Tatts, where would ya' go about findin' a dead elephant around here?

JC found that one up by La Huerta.

And the story is? Gracias, Rosa.

Y tambien corazon. Gracias. The story is that he was up there on village business when the circus came to town. Or almost to town. Seems the elephant was loaded onto a stake-bed truck for transport from town to town and had become quite proficient at traveling thus, and leaning into curves to maintain his balance and to assist the driver by eliminating the need for him to slow down. Evidently as they headed into a tight right sweep the elephant shifted his weight to the left of the bed and had his head hanging over the sideboards for balance just as a bus passed. The resulting collision of head and hood led, of course to the demise of the elephant.

Sweet lovin' Jesus! So how'd JC get involved? He on the bus?

No, he was in town, but like everyone else for miles around he got to the scene of the wreck as soon as he could. It's so seldom you get to see a good elephant crash in this part of the country.

Come to think of it, this is the only one I've ever heard of.

Exactly. And JC saw the possibilities of the situation immediately. He was in La Huerta to petition for funds to construct a safer and more suitable observation area on the crocodile lagoon, a plea that has been ignored on many occasions. This huge carcass was a tailor made solution to the problem. He said the plan came to him in an instant.

JC and his plans.

This one was actually quite good. He bought the carcass on the condition that the circus owner deliver it back here to the village. He headed home after leaving instructions on where to deliver the beast, then he cleaned out the village bank account and returned immediately to the La Huerta accident site to pay. But first, on the way out of town he placed an order for Tonio to print up a thousand tickets…

A thousand tickets.

For the ceremony.

Ceremony.

Ceremony. His plan was to stage an elaborate ancient Indian sacrifice to the Caiman Gods, using the elephant as the draw. It was scheduled for the next night, last night. He had half the town whipped into a money-making frenzy within an hour of his return. As soon as the tickets were dry he dispatched anyone who'd go to the resort across the bay to peddle passes to the tourists. He alerted the Taxi Drivers Union to stand by for an increase in business. As quickly as ticket money came in he sent out teams to the neighboring towns to purchase decorations, flowers, plastic tarps. He paid Paco to hire a crew to cut the trees and get a rustic altar built on the sandbar in the lagoon. Every dining establishment in town, every tienda, everyone who could possibly peddle anything to the expected influx of visitors was offered the opportunity to cash in on this once in a lifetime bonanza.

And they all bit.

All. He promised Senora Carmela ten percent of the ticket sales for the benefit of the school if she'd get the kids costumed and painted to stand by and chant as the elephant was devoured. Padre Garza was offered a sizable donation if he would lead a candlelight procession from the church to the lagoon and bless the faux pagan spectacle. The village band was ordered to shine their instruments and tighten drumheads. Banners and streamers were to be strung across the streets, palm fronds and fresh flowers were to be laced and nailed to any upright along the parade route and to the altar where JC, dressed as whatever feathered god his mind could conceive of would order elephant parts tossed to the waiting crocs. Snacks and trinkets and food would be sold. Everyone would share in the wealth! Jimmy Ray, you'd never imagine this beach bunch could hustle and bustle the way they did. Greed on wheels! Avarice. The heart-felt conviction that prosperity was at last coming to this sleepy little blemish on the beach. Hope. A rare commodity hereabouts.

But?

Alas, the best laid plans.

How?

Things were going exceptionally well. Sheets were being ripped and sewn into costumes; turkeys, ducks, and chickens were defeathered at an alarming rate; and wood was gathered and piled along the banks of the lagoon to be set afire to create the proper mood for the nighttime offering. Everyone who could scrape up a few pesos bought as many bottles of beer and soda and as much food as they could. It was an astounding display of free enterprise. Unbridled, unchecked, driven by the desire to cash in while the cashing was good. Señora Carmela wrote a simple scenario for the urchins to perform and each of the members of the band was sternly instructed to refrain from any alcoholic indulgence until after the ceremony. You remember the kiosk dedication don't you?

Ugly. Ugly. But funny as hell.

JC was not risking funny this time, my friend. The entire populace was up until almost two a.m. working on their individual business plans, or costumes, or whatever drove them for the moment. The band even put in a couple of hours of practice. Padre Garza called the Bishop and invited him to come see what he had inspired in his small congregation. It was a tired but happy village that retired last night, each surely dreaming sweet and happy thoughts. None suspecting, even in spite of all the lessons long learned in lifetimes of poverty and despair, that their brief moment of optimism was to be cruelly shattered on the twin reefs of miscommunication and incompetence.

Oh hell, don't tell me Bones was involved somehow!

No, no, for once your friend was completely in the clear. He's still in Manzanillo. Allegedly diving with a youngish tourist whose fancy he managed to arraign. The fault lies with JC's instructions to the circus owner. Or rather, his lack of specificity in delivering those instructions. He told the proprietor that he planned to feed the elephant to the caimans, nothing more. Except that the body, excluding the head, was to be cut into chunks that a man could carry and it was to be delivered to the lagoon no later than noon today. At approximately five o'clock this morning Rigo and Martina were roused from a short but deep slumber…

Oh, sweet hoppin' Christ! Surely not!

Yes indeed. It was the middle of the night before the police released all the parties concerned, elephant included, so the circus owner, having already lost both a star attraction as well as a day's work and profit immediately dispatched his driver to dismember and deliver his deceased cargo. He subsequently backed his truck down the lane in front of Rigo's place and started offloading reptile food. The crocs responded with huge roars of delight; awakening the sleeping couple. They later reported that they had no suspicion about the number of amphibian inhabitants of that lagoon, but they were sure that all of them were there convened for an especially rare and sumptuous banquet. By the time Rigo roused JC and spread the alarm it was just about over. Evidently it doesn't take long for a swarm of crocodiles to consume an elephant.

So that's it, huh? JC's self-screwed. Again. The village is bankrupt, the folks are in hock even more than usual, we got a bunch of naked birds runnin' around, and the priest is pissed. Poor ole JC. It just don't get much worse, does it?

It will later. He has yet to deal with the Taxi Drivers Union and all those tourists holding hundred pesos tickets to an ancient Indian elephant sacrifice. Ah, here comes your breakfast. I'll give you a moment to dine and digest and then I'll tell you about the only one in the village who seems to have profited from this entire affair.

Somebody made out?

Eat, eat; that story will wait.