When
great things happen, artists are inspired. So when the epic events that
captivated our city some two weeks ago transpired, needless to say, I
was
very inspired. My first
reaction was to compose a poem, as witnessed here. But the urge to document this great
event was not satisfied. So I began a new attempt, a short story, one
that should stand for all time as a historical record of the fine
achievement of one lady
who dared to “cross the line” one early morning in November. Tiger
Lady, I salute you; may this story in some way do small justice to
your triumph.
Furthermore, it will stand as a record of the time I swiftly and completely torpedoed any chance I ever had at having a writing career. I doubt very seriously I will sell another book once this masterpiece is unleashed.
Without
further ado, as I prepare to bid adieu, allow me to present “The Lady
and the Tiger.” I would say, “Enjoy”, but I make it a point to never
demand the impossible.
THE LADY AND THE TIGER
Or, A Work of Considerable Importance
By Someone Who is Not Jeremy Morong
The
parking lot was vast. It was long and cold. When cars would zip by on 13th Street, the drivers and passengers inside would speak of what once was:
Rosenblatt, the home of cheering throngs who delighted in the exploits of college
baseballers. But no more. At this late hour it sat empty, but only temporarily, for it eagerly awaited teems of mini-vans and
SUVs that would arrive loaded to bear with eager children and beleaguered parents. They would journey forsooth in search of the big city pleasures found at the world-renowned Omaha Henry Doorly
Zoo, the enterprise that had taken over this plot of land, the first phase of their plot for world domination in the field of zoology. A lofty goal, perhaps, but achievable, as it was no mere row of cages like the zoos of yore; this fine facility boasted
wild jungles, shark-filled oceans, and a rolling savanna, among other
recreations of the natural world.
The
lot was not quite empty, however. One car dared to makes its residence here, idling
loudly as it crisscrossed two handicap parking spaces. When the engine quieted,
a gentle voice could be heard within. “Dear lady, please wake up.” This was
followed by a tender shaking of the woman’s shoulder.
