The Hippo and the Lion – 19/03/2018

In a display of supreme stupidity, the group of bankers moved downhill towards the lioness and her cub to get better photographs. Predictably, the lioness charged.

My friend, who was leading the bodyguard detail for the bankers, described what happened next as “a cartoon”. Feet slipped, arms flailed, and the bankers fell all over each other in a desperate attempt to scramble back up the hill to the safety of the lodge. The lioness streaked towards them, roaring in anger.

With no good option, my friend ran downhill past the flailing tangle of bankers to meet her. He reached for the concealed pistol in his shoulder holster.  His only choice was to kill the lioness before she killed his clients. This was a great pity, because she was clearly faultless and they were clearly fools.

However, having seen off the threat to her cub the lioness stopped, then retreated. My friend, standing alone and relieved, removed his hand from the still concealed gun. He turned to climb back up the hill.

He was met by thunderous applause. The bankers, now safely back at the lodge, still had no idea that my friend was armed. They believed he had charged the lion in an act of selfless bravery.  All afternoon they bought beers for the conquering hero and recounted their mutual adventure. No doubt the tale grew in the telling, and with the drinking.

One by one the bankers wobbled off to bed. My friend sat alone on the lodge verandah, savoring the events of the day and the cool African night. A hippo wandered by grazing on the grass. So wild and yet so close, like the lioness herself.

Then the hippo pooped all over him. Hippos use their paddle-shaped tails to spray stool around like a firehose. My friend found himself sitting in just such a hippo car wash. When he finally got up from the chair there was the outline of his body, like a chalk drawing at a murder scene, surrounded by hippo poop.

He went into the parking lot, stripped, and threw his uniform in a garbage bag, never to be worn again.

 

[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWearyThe more the merrier.]

Halloween – 06/11/2017

Things went bad one Halloween when my niece pooped in her lion costume. She was only two, so what are you going do? But the outfit is a one-piece, necessitating a messy and difficult extraction even for veteran parents. My sister-in-law was forced to do an emergency pit-stop in our living room to initiate the clean-up.

We were also joined by a dear family member who has dementia. In the face of this horrible disease, our family has treasured moments of levity as they come along. Such it was to be this Halloween.

When the doorbell rang the family member would instinctively open the door. She would then stand there silent, confused by the throngs of costumed children. But the moment someone yelled “trick or treat”, recognition would radiate across her face. Her eyes sparkled as she would exclaim with surprise and enthusiasm, “Why, it must be Halloween!”  Finding the candy bowl, she would dish out liberal portions to the kids, and then help herself to a chocolate bar.

This cycle repeated itself dozens of times throughout the evening. Each group of trick-or-treaters was a brand new experience for her: doorbell, confusion, recognition, an enthusiastic exclamation of “Why, it must be Halloween!”, and then another chocolate bar. She must have eaten 20 before the night was through.

At one point our pre-teen daughter arrived back from trick or treating, dragging with her a pack of pre-teen girls engaged in pre-teen drama. They had elected to go out together all dressed as pieces of fruit. Apparently the banana had teased the apple about some part of her costume. The apple began to cry. Then the banana felt guilty, so she began to cry. Then the grape blamed the cherry for not stepping into the fray. So the entire fruit bowl began to cry. All the while said family member was circulating in the midst of the weeping fruit, dishing out candy while gleefully consuming yet another chocolate bar.

As my niece slipped back into her lion costume her older brother, dressed as the Pope, managed to catch his finger in our screen door. So at one moment in time our living room boasted a screaming pope, my sister-in-law trying to contain the fallout, weeping tween-age fruit, my beleaguered wife, a niece dressed as a lion who smelled like some unholy combination of stale poop and sugar, and a family member with dementia and an ear-to-ear grin, vibrating from excess chocolate consumption.

The very next batch of kids to ring the doorbell saw the chaotic throng in our living room. They decided the party must be inside, so in they came! I hope that everyone had a great Halloween this year!

 

[If you know others who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, please feel free to forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier!]