The elusive ebony lioness crouches motionless in the tall grass, the only sign of life being the occasional flick of the tail and the dilation of golden pupils as she watches her prey approach.
Today’s ritual sacrifice to the goddess of her raw hunger is a tawny antelope, unwittingly approaching her impending doom on gangly legs. A jackal and a desert fox wait in the distance for the outcome of what is sure to be an epic struggle.
The lioness realizes her strength lies not in her speed but in her power and cunning, so her brain is constantly performing complex geometrical equations involving angles and arcs, when suddenly she sees her opportunity and lunges from her hide. The antelope realizes the impending threat and wheels to flee the looming black death, but it’s way to late, and the lioness hits her flank like a cannonball, bowling her over and over in preparation of the death strike, or at least a spare. It’s the last frame for the antelope, time to return the rented shoes and go home.
Or is it?
What if the antelope wasn’t an antelope at all, but another lioness looking for some prey of her own? And the gangling, doofus, approach just a clever ploy to entice her deadly foe away from the remains of her last kill, and the hunter becomes the hunted? And after a prolonged battle that leaves them both gasping, exhausted and defenseless, they discover that the booty for which they had been battling so fiercely had been shanghai’d by the fox and the jackal?
And the merciless circle of life continues amidst the waving tall grass, high on the plains of the Serengeti.
Note to self: I have GOT to get the yard mowed this weekend; it’s a jungle out there!
