This week I intend to hunt and capture a drop bear.
So it’s high time to cross off a few more difficult things off the list.
In order to do this, I need to leave Bali and go to Australia for a week or so. The monkeys refuse to join me. Jo-Jo says the land down south is a cursed land. In Monkey Latin, Australia is known as Terror Australis Incognita Monstro.
Monkey legends from as long ago as the formation of the Ramayana tell of a monster that lurks in the eucalypt forests of the south. Monkeys throughout the world have avoided the Australian phantom.
But I am determined to return with this monster, so that these monkeys can see there is nothing wrong with drop bears. Perhaps then, the monkeys will visit the home land with me. I will show them where I grew up, my local Woolworths, where I often got my hair cut, the town swimming pool, Uluru even, if we have time.
Besides, how could a drop bear be worse than our Timmy? (a crazy wild monkey that was “transferred” into our forest to be a part of the now defunct Big Monkey TV show. The zookeepers that caught him seem to have forgotten about him. Surprisingly, instead of running away, he stays in a tree far from the forest entrances, on the other side of the creek, carving words like kill and die king die and Megadeth forever into the bark)
“Don’t go to Terror Australis!” Mojo said. “Don’t go! There is nothing but death down there.”
I told him I had lived in Australia for 23 years, and that I had turned out okay.
“No you didn’t!” Mojo howled. “We’ve only just trained you to be socially acceptable.”
50 of them insisted on coming to Denpasar airport with me, as some sort of guard of honour, so we had to hijack 10 scooters so we’d all fit. Jo-Jo kept smoking while steering a moped with five others stacked on her head.
I am at the airport now – nervously hoping I will be allowed through customs. Technically I have overstayed my visit to Indonesia.