In Tight Pursuit
I had just finished my second Jamaican Me Happy when the bad idea to take a walk around the beautiful island tempted me to leave the safety of The Tourist Trap Hotel.
The palms and ferns were waving in the balmy breeze, and all seemed nice and gentle when I set out for a short walk around the scenic countryside.
I had only gone about 100 yards when I met a strange little "man" (or maybe it was a dwarf as its humanness was questionable - it had no clothes, walked in a hopping crouch, and was covered in long red hair over dark skin).
I looked at its ape-like face and, wanting to test for intelligence, politely said "hello".
It immediately yelled "uncajunca" and gestured for me to follow as it hopped off down a wide path that I assumed would lead us to a village.
Indeed, we soon arrived at a few squalid huts located around what appeared to be a cave mouth.
Several more of the odd creatures appeared from the huts as my leader parked in front of the cave, where it loudly yelled "uncajunca" a couple of times.
From the cave appeared a much larger version of the hairy beings.
Not only was this second type much larger, it had a remarkable difference maker between its legs.
Apparently, the females were so covered in hair that I it was not until I saw a male that I realized that they were female...but this second guy was definitely a guy.
A gay guy.
Uncle Junkah took one look at me and started leering and beating time eight to the bar.
I started backing off, but he advanced as fast as his already stiff member would allow.
I turned and ran, while he used his long legs to begin a tight pursuit.
I wasn't too worried as I was young and had run cross-country in school. My main concern was not to stumble over some rock or branch in the path.
The following creature exhibited its siccant humor by yelling "uncajunca" on a regular basis which must have cost it some breath as it appeared to slow down.
As it dropped further behind, its hopes faded and so did its natural impediment - but this process let it speed up and soon it was close enough for its hopes to again reignite a turgid reaction.
It was at this point that saw the outskirts of town.
I remembered, from tourist orientation, that there was a police station located somewhere near, and began a fervent hunt for its assumed safety.
After taking several wrong turns and almost getting caught, I ran into the station and slammed the door in Uncle Junkah's face. It stood outside yelling "uncajunca, uncajunca"!
The on-duty cop came over and asked if I needed help.
I was busy holding the door shut but yelped "yes"!
He smiled and pulled a tube of vaseline from his pocket and stuck it in my shirt pocket.
It was at this point that I realized just how different was this culture from my own, and that "uncajunca" was probably a universal cry to help Uncle Junkah.
Desperate, I grabbed the cop's gun out of his loose holster and fired a warning shot through the roof fronds.
Both the cop and the creature took off and I was left to wonder if I should keep the gun or leave it on the police office desk.
I decided to go down fighting so kept the gun and started walking back to the Tourist Trap.
It was getting late as I neared the hotel, and I could hear unmistakable sounds of police activity: sirens followed by peremptory orders.
Creeping through the foliage beside the trail, while wondering how to get back onboard the tourist ship, I slowly approached The Trap.
Then my luck came up aces as I met a young lady of my acquaintance from the ship.
She was escaping down the trail and answered my eager hello with the information that the cops were seeking an armed vigilante that they were sure was a tourist.
She didn't want to be searched so was going to spend the night in her isolated tent near the beach - and she invited me to come with her. This, I was much pleased to do, making full use of the vaseline.
The next day, we avoided the crowd getting on to the tourist ship as the cops were checking everyone.
She knew of a private airport and I was happy to pay for a plane ride to Florida.
Perhaps a law enforcement agency would normally have met the plane, but from what I was told, some VIP named something like Douci, was conducting orangutang/human hybrid experiments on the island and had arranged for us to leave before the situation became more public.
I now suspect the young lady was an agent working for Douci, and that she liked me better than I had any right to expect...I hope to meet her again, but not any more hybrids.
Unless she is a hybrid.