Pink Pill Box

To read part one.

Marilyn and I were in Dallas, Texas on that fateful day, November 22nd 1963 to save a man's life, but not just any life. We were there to save the President’s life; President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

As we dashed further away from the crowded parade route and towards the infamous Texas School Book Depository, my mind recounted the dead end which had led us to these perilous seven minutes counting down to history.

Earlier that morning we had attempted to gain entry into Fort Worth’s Hotel Texas. The President and the First Lady were enjoying a chamber of commerce breakfast following a speech in the adjacent town square. If Marilyn Monroe could create a media frenzy at the breakfast, perhaps the disturbance would cause the President's ensuing Dallas trip to be delayed. We could sufficiently reroute the timestream without resorting to violence.

No such luck.

Marilyn and I padded quietly, as quietly as a mountain gorilla can, across the service parking lot towards the delivery bays. We were almost there when the grey door opened and a silhouette in bright pink stood before us. It was Jackie Kennedy, and she was alone.

From my vantage point she resembled a cherry blossom fallen on a vast concrete sidewalk.

“And what are you doing here, you pill popping harlot? Here to destroy my husband's presidency? Here to terrorize my children? Here to ruin my life?!” Jackie Kennedy wasted no time screaming accusations at the blonde-bombshell-undercover-gorilla-agent.

Marilyn Monroe lumbered forward menacingly. His gorilla's arms pulled the door from its hinges. He hurled it behind him, almost hitting me. Jackie Kennedy stepped in front of Marilyn, unconvinced of the starlet's strength.

I had to act fast to stop the ensuing pummeling. “I’m sorry First Lady, but we’re here to see the President, not you.”

I stated the fact with calm urgency.

“Neither of you are welcome. Especially not her. Please leave. Or I’ll have to remove you myself.”

Marilyn bristled at the challenge, his silver back fur stood on end completely burying his opalescent pearl necklace. A low growl rumbled from deep inside Marilyn's chest.

The First Lady blushed the same hue as her iconic pink suit and matching pill box hat. She pursed her lips. Her narrow eyes squinted as she scrutinized Marilyn's simian face. Had she sensed something was amiss? Blowing Marilyn's cover would result in failure.

“Marilyn! Down!” I hissed and pulled the gargantuan beast back to my side.

“OK First Lady. You win this round. But we won’t give up trying to contact the President.”

Jackie Kennedy disappeared from the doorway, as though in a slight daze. She was promptly replaced by two secret service agents. Their identical suits seemed to morph together forming a wall of navy pinstripes topped by two heads. Our opportunities to delay the Presidential motorcade indirectly were exhausted.

Marilyn and I sat out of view to determine our next course of action. A light drizzle misted the crumpled leaves on the pavement. The silver-back directed his soulful, brown eyes towards me.

I scolded in return, “Don’t you give me that look. Sometimes words succeed where fists don’t, Marilyn.”

Inwardly, however, I admonished myself. As the Handler I know better than to second guess my animal friend's instinctive choices. But I resorted to intellect. I had to. Sure, punching Jackie Kennedy would have delayed the motorcade, but part of our job includes subterfuge. Absolutely no one can know we exist.

The First Lady had sensed something was amiss. She was obviously relinquishing her torpor. I couldn't risk her seeing Marilyn's true form. I also wondered how she knew we would arrive at that particular door. Curious.

Nonetheless, I concluded we should immediately make our way to Dallas. Now was the time for animal instinct. Marilyn Monroe and I would take the fight to JFK's would-be assassin!

To be continued...