March 13, 2015

Fresh Meat

I'm the fucking king of the jungle, so damn right I'm gonna eat your kid. Honestly, I don't know what's so shocking about this. You came onto my turf, sweet little munchkin in tow, let her waddle right up to the glass… ugh, the fucking glass. You think I'd wise up to that by now. Every time – every time – I have a clear shot at one of those little lambs, that glass, that… fucking glass…

I digress. King of the jungle, king of the goddamn jungle. I'm The King. Badass.

So. Don't get shocked with me, lady. Yes, I made a move for your kid. Practically telegraphed it, slinking down flat as a mat. Flicking my tail, plotting my trajectory, doing the math. It would've been painless, I assure you. And if you're like the other idiot animals around here, you'd just have another one next year anyway. Maybe don't bring that one into the goddamn lion enclosure.

She walked right up to me. Right up to me, understand? You people don't teach your kids anything. I'm lying here, watching your idiot cohorts take my picture, flashes bouncing off the glass… and that's another thing, you're never going to get a decent shot in here with the flash on. You do know that glass reflects light, right? But I digress… again.

I sized up your kid. I admit it. Like taking candy from a baby, except replace candy with baby, and swap baby for… um… Hmm. Lost my train of thought.

Whatever. You made it too easy, is what I'm saying. I know they toss us slabs of meat every day, but that's not sporting. Instinct took over. I saw red – and pink, and two bright blue unsuspecting eyes – and I pounced. And I had her, I fucking had her. Bam! Paws hit the glass. That goddamned glass.

Only then did you swipe her away, save the day. Like you're the king of the jungle. Well, you're not. You people just know a thing or two about glass. That's the only reason you're out there, and I'm in here.

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