Chapter 1
This is Tom. She may not look like a Tom to you right now, but give it some time. Her parents simply adored the name, and that’s really the whole story. Tom lives with the Lady of the House in a house that’s really a mansion, and somewhere in the mansion there is usually the King. The house that’s really a mansion was built by strong people, and because of this it too is very strong. The people that built it were strong because they had to be, exactly the way you are when you have no say in a matter, and the house is the type that makes you feel safe, full of secrets and perfect hiding places, best discovered while exploring during thunderstorms. Nobody knows where this house is or why because none of that has anything to do with anything. It would be a fantastic waste of time.
One night during a tremendous thunderstorm Tom found a Tiger upstairs. To be perfectly honest it was a bit awkward, and not being completely sure of what to do, she thought it might be best to defer to another. So, wide-eyed, she closed the door very slowly, so as not to disturb the striped giant, promptly flew back downstairs, and alerted the Lady of the House.
“Well that simply won't do!” said the Lady of the House upon hearing such an update, “See to it!”
An odd answer, one might assume, and rightly so, but the truth of the matter is that the Lady of the House always answered in one of two ways: The first and most common way was exactly as you have just heard. The second, more seldom way was with a most enthusiastic, “How lovely!” After that, the news was considered out of date, and there were other things to do! “See to it!” was also the lady’s way of saying, “Inform the King!”
Tom, quite used to all this, set out to find the king. But the house that was really a mansion was big, and she planned for the search to take a long while. It didn’t though. Why would it? Tom found the King almost immediately. He was sitting near the hearth, surrounded by books and not reading, and Tom told him the awkward news about the Tiger. But the King, being a terrifically stupid and completely unnecessary dolt, simply smiled and said, "She’s right. That won't do!" He then turned back to sipping his most recent magic potion. It wasn’t even hot anymore. Perhaps it never was.
Her updates were often ignored, but this was going nowhere quicker than Tom had expected, so she pulled out her list of tasks for tomorrow and made a note about limiting her expectations. She then poured a large glass of milk and took it with her upstairs, for she had a hunch that tigers loved milk.
“I brought you some milk!” Tom politely announced as she knocked on and then opened the door, “Do you love milk?”
“No,” answered the tiger, who hadn’t moved, “I wouldn’t say that, for it sounds rather dramatic.”
Being a cat, the tiger had often been accused of being overly dramatic, even when his reactions had fit perfectly with the details of the situation. And because of all this he had taken great effort to eliminate most of the drama from his life, but it hadn’t worked at all. And more importantly, who cares?
“I wouldn’t say that I love milk. I do like it, but I don’t love it, and just so you know, most tigers do not like milk, so don’t think of yourself as clever or smart because you just got lucky. I’m a rarity you know.”
Tom wasn’t sure how much, if any, of that was true, and just as she was about to raise a question the Tiger added, “Still though, it’s so irritating that someone can have a point when they’re wrong, and that’s exactly what you’re doing now.” Then there was a long pause while the Tiger stared at Tom, as if he was waiting for her to do something. Clueless though, Tom only fidgeted and stared back at the Tiger until finally the enormous beast sighed, “So just hurry up and enjoy it ... and then stop it, please!” Then standing up, and walking over, “And thank you for the milk.”
Despite the Tiger’s enormity he was silent when he walked, something Tom noticed immediately, and she snickered.
“Why are you laughing?” the tiger calmly asked, remembering not be dramatic. The milk was already gone.
“Because you’re so quiet when you walk,” Tom whispered. “You’re so quiet that it caught my attention, which is the same thing as being loud!”
“Ughhhhhh! You’re doing it again, even after I asked you to stop”, the Tiger sighed once more, “Even after you agreed.”
“Agreed to what?” said Tom, quickly losing her place in the conversation.
“Agreed. To. Stop.” said the tiger, now with an insultingly obvious tone placed on every word. “You agreed to stop having a point even when you’re wrong. It really is irritating.”
Tom caught up, “Ummmm ... well first of all I never agreed to anything, even if it is irritating, and second of all, it just seems like you would have a hard time hunting when you’re so good at being quiet that everyone knows you’re there.”
“And yet I eat very well, so you must be wrong,” smiled the tiger. He then began pacing around the room, rubbing against most everything in the way that any cat does between naps. “For the record you did agree, at least in way. But regardless, just because they might know that I am about does mean they know in the slightest where abouts I might be. And who would I be to interrupt such a good thing?”
Lightning cracked. Thunder roared. The room lit up with purple flashing light.
“When did you get here?” Tom asked.
During their brief conversation she had determined rather quickly that the tiger was harmless. And she let it show now. Not in a nasty way, but rather in that unintentional and endearing manner that only the very young can pull off, a combination of sincerity and curiosity, boldness and innocence.
Seeing straight through all this of course the tiger humored her, “I arrived here tonight.”
“Yeah, but when?” pressed Tom.
“Shortly after it started raining,” said the tiger.
“And we didn’t even notice!?” Tom was excited, as if somehow this meant that the tiger might be magic, and so she said it again, “Really? We didn’t notice?”
“Imagine that,” said the tiger, entertaining himself a bit.
“Did you come from the zoo?” asked Tom.
“I don’t do the zoo, darling, but if I had come from that ... place ... tonight would have almost certainly been the night, wouldn’t it? Such things should always be reserved for thunderstorms.”
“What things?” Tom was lost again.
“Daring escapes! Of course!” and the Tiger froze, as if on the verge of hearing some kind of horrid news, “You do read don’t you? Unlike that King of yours?”
As a matter of fact Tom did read. She read a lot. How else would she know anything? It seemed terribly obvious.
From this point their conversation wandered on for a while, and some of it was very entertaining, but if any of it was your business then you would have been there.
It was almost time for supper when their conversation had stopped wandering, and the King, who was usually in the house that was really a mansion, was preparing a feast. And the tiger who ate very well was very interested.
So down the stairs the two moved, silently, toward the drifting and alluring scent. Tom was riding high on the tiger’s back, and in hardly no time at all they had tracked and traced their prize. Tom, of course, knew exactly where the dining room was too, and experts agree that this knowledge probably helped. Upon entering the dining room they found the Lady of the House fussing over a bottle of wine that hadn’t kept as it should have, but she stopped and looked up immediately, for their arrival had been so quiet that anyone would have noticed.
“How lovely!” she smiled, “The King said he couldn’t find you, but I knew you were about, Sit ... sit, sit! Eat! I’m so glad you brought your lion!”
“LIONNNN????!!!!” The tiger immediately erupted when he heard this with a roar that filled the room and shook the walls and made the lights flicker! And at the same time exactly, as if by some stroke of luck gifted by the gods, a tremendous crack of thunder split and rumbled from the sky to the ground, and this meant that the Lady of the House missed every bit of the tiger’s terrifying commentary. So did King, who had returned to the feast as the thunder was rolling away, but who’s to say whether that’s because he heard nothing or thought nothing. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.
“That was very dramatic,” whispered Tom to the tiger, “I don’t think they noticed though.”
Indeed they hadn’t. The King had returned holding a new potion in one hand, and with the other hand he was now flicking the lights on and off, wearing a most inquisitive and tortured expression, like one of an astrophysicist tangibly close to a revelation, and the Lady of the House was watching the King. After nothing was accomplished and both the Lady and the King were sure of it, well, then it was time to eat.
“I am not a lion!” whispered the tiger, in a very snappy manner, “Does she not see these stripes?”
“What is the cat saying?” asked the King. But as he asked this he was eyeing at the feast excitedly, despite the fact that his own plate was already full of feast food, and so Tom knew he didn’t care.
“He says he’s not a lion!” Tom answered anyway.
“I’m so sorry to hear it, dear! That’s too bad,” added the Lady.
“Well what is he then?” the King turned.
“A tiger! You can tell by his stripes, he’s also much bigg-”
“Well he looks like a cat to me!” the King interrupted, smiling.
“I AM a cat!” said the tiger.
“He IS a cat,” said Tom, “You just keep saying the wrong type of cat!”
The King, making note of the technically a false accusation, harmless as it was, latched on to the newfound opportunity to have a great cause in life, and so he commenced to argue with child over details that could never in ten million lifetimes of ten million years each have mattered.
“I didn’t say he was any type of cat! I asked what he was!” the proud King said, verbally standing his ground against the fabricated onslaught.
“And now HE’s doing it!” snapped the tiger. “That whole business about having a point when you’re wrong. I don’t mean to be rude, but really, it is very irritating. She was obviously addressing both of you at the same time, as a collective!”
More thunder. More lightning. More purple.
“And honestly,” continued the tiger, “How is it that you do not know what I am? Tell me, please, for I am genuinely curious at this point how that’s even possible! Have you been living under a rock? Do you know what a rock is?”
But the King, now feeling to be on a defensive roll, proudly responded with a mouth full of feast food and potion, “Curiothity killed the cat!” and then proceeded to laugh hysterically, to tears even, at his own comment, wheezing uncontrollably until he finally started choking. So the Lady of the House jumped up quickly and began to fuss over the King, issuing what amounted to no more than a formality of a scolding to Tom and the tiger.
At this, amid the half-hearted scolding, the fussing, the thunder, the rain, the wheezing, the choking, the laughter, and the details, the tiger gave up and left. And since Tom was on his back she left too.
“I didn’t ask to find you upstairs you know!” Tom pointed out as they climbed.
Sure you did
Then why did you come here?
How should I know? It wasn’t my idea!
He had a point.
Chapter 2
“I’m sorry about them,” said Tom.
“Don’t be. They’re not yours. And I must leave now anyway, for there is much to do this evening,” answered the Tiger.
“Are you coming back?” asked Tom, as any child would ask of any beloved babysitter.
“Not a chance. You’d be looking and waiting for me, and that would be no good. Thanks again for the milk.” And as he said this the tiger walked calmly toward the back of the room and flipped the lights. When Tom flipped them back on the tiger was gone.
“That guy was weird.” said a voice from behind her. Startled, Tom immediately shrieked and turned and found herself face to face with a surprisingly large hyena.
“Calmate mija!” said the hyena.
What does that mean, who are you?
I’m only kidding, that wasn’t funny at all, the laughter was fake. Just thought it might help to calm you down if I fit your expectations a bit. Anyway, it means calm down, and really, you should know this. It’s just Spanish.
“What? Why do you speak Spanish?”
“Because I like it. Why else? It’s just a bunch of words, not any different than any other manner speaking. Except for not speaking, that’s actually much better overall. You people would really do well to learn about not talking, lot to be said to each other by not talking. It’s the way of the wild.”
“I’m so lost,” said Tom
“Then stop talking,” said the hyena, “I just explained this to you, it was literally the last thing I said. You’re gonna have to run a lot faster than this by the time we
She was a bit rough around the edges, but then again she had to be. They wouldn’t listen otherwise. For the most part she was delightful and mannered, especially for a hyena, and that was coming from the lions so one can assume that it must be true.