Sven and The Tiger

Tigers are pretty but not for eating. If you ever have a steak knife and you meet a live tiger, try not to think yum. Try to think run, then run. If you are capable of such complicated thought then grab a mershon pipe because you are the intellectual superior to Sven Pacheco. Sven currently is testing humanity’s place in the food chain with his trusty Oneida steak knife. The tiger is unimpressed but the zookeepers are screaming like he was a rock star, a rock star who jumped into the tiger enclosure with carnivorous intentions but fame is fame.

As the crowd roars, Sven readies his opening thrust. Hurley, the tiger is trying to remember a time when he was feared. There was a time when his shadow’s touch was considered an agent of death. Now, this one man thinks himself worthy. It took ten men to put Hurley in the cage, it took three to ship him and Hurley took five down along the way. These days though, Sven, a man who soiled himself unafraid, was the challenger.

Sven finally flies forward, polished steel in hand. He lets loose the war cry “Attica!”. Everyone else is puzzled but not Sven, for he knows that a celebrity had once screamed that very word. The tiger meets the man shaved face to furry ass. What follows is the world’s most anti-climatic mule kick. Sven is sent flying into a nearby tree. Hurley paced at a distance awaiting the return of the moron.

Sven is alive again and he’s now reading from Sun Tzu’s Art of Cliff Notes. Don’t run straight at the tiger. Instead he opts for the shrubbery, still screaming and running full tilt at it with his steak knife forward in full calvary charge mode. Hurley sighs, a trait he picked up from the English majors that run hot dog stands. Slowly, the tiger approaches the shrub and prepares to bite the damn fool’s head clean off.

A curious thing happens, less curious than Sven, but curious still. Roses start falling, roses and diapers, oh, and dachshunds. It was all a tiger could do not to cry. Hurley was for the first time genuinely appreciated inside the zoo. For the fifth time, Sven confuses himself with a rock star but this time it involves a tiger which somehow seems better than being a rock star without.

The two begin to make a dance. Two steps forward, right claw, one step back. Next Sven slashes with his right and Hurley claws with the left. The tempo quickens from waltz to fandango. Finally, Hurley draws blood and the crack of a rifle sounds. Hurley falls, dart in the back. As quickly as it came, the glory left the ring.

That is until next week on Tuesday at 2:00 pm and the Tuesday after that.