The Tiger
Not far from my grandparents’ house lived one tiger, the most solitary of the cats in the Forest Park Zoo, his roar the most heartfelt. He looked through the bars the way I looked through the screens on our porch, not with hope or interest, but in resignation, that ledge we come to during a steep climb. in the tiger’s case, he had climbed down from his own life into one envisioned by his keeper; in my case, I was climbing up toward a life there was no need to envision, so similar was it to the lives around me.
Though we were climbing in different directions, the tiger and I had much in common - I, too, was solitary, and my passion sat near me like an untouched water dish. I paced the porch mat, watched cars and sometimes disappeared into the house, just as the tiger sometimes disappeared into an inner chamber. The difference was, people waited for him to show himself, whereas no one waited for me, unless you count each car as a person, and the shadow behind each car as the car’s effort to wait.
Quantum Leap
Out cutting firewood, an old woman accidentally chopped off her foot with an axe. To her amazement a new foot slowly sprouted, so that by the time she reached home even a shiny replacement for her brown shoe was firmly attached.
She tried sawing of her ring finger with a paring knife—in half an hour the finger reproduced itself with the diamond ring she’d lost fifty years before. Excitedly she rushed out, pawned the ring and purchased a wardrobe of tennis togs and nightgowns totally unsuitable for someone her age.
That night she draped her body with a lilac chiffon peignoir and stabbed herself through the heart. It wasn’t long before her eyes fluttered open. She found herself in a glade surrounded by maidens in long gowns and tiaras. She prodded her arms, her breasts…as smooth and firm as anyone could wish!
It was good to be young again.
