The Mara
Mr. Pop travels with a black suitcase and a home made pair of tinted glasses. He explores Africa, looking for Lions. He likes to catch them and force them to talk.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Laughs Mr. Pop.
He’s a bad man.
One day, under the scorching sun of the equator, Mr Pop catches sight of a particularly magnificent lion. It rests in the shade and licks its lion chops with its huge lion tongue. It has a fiery red mane, that is the biggest that Mr. Pop has ever seen.
Mr. Pop waves his electric clippers, with the portable battery pack.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
He knows how to get a lion to talk.
He leaps from his Jeep, and runs to the lion on his long spindly legs.
“Ha!” He says. “You are a lion. I am a man!”
The lion says nothing.
Mr. Pop holds forth the electric clippers, with the portable battery pack.
“Do you know what this is?” He asks.
The lion rolls its shoulders. Perhaps that is a lion shrug? Mr. Pop doesn’t know.
“I’m going to shave your mane, unless you talk to me!”
The lion yawns. By casual coincidence the lion has revealed its huge lion teeth to Mr. Pop. They are as long as his hand, with little stringy pieces of meat rotting at their bases. It exhales with a whoosh that bathes Mr. Pop with the smell of safari carcass. Mr. Pop smiles.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Mr. Pop likes the smell of the dead. He’s a bad man.
The lion stretches. With this most natural of movements, the lion has inadvertently shown Mr. Pop how large its claws are. They are very large claws. Just one could disembowel Mr. Pop with a single swipe, and his guts would fall out of his body and land in the dust.
Plop.
Mr. Pop brandishes his electric clippers, with the portable battery pack. He presses a nifty little button, and enables the extra function. Three legs sprout from its side. It’s no ordinary electric clipper, with a portable battery pack. It has lion taming chair action!
The lion looks a little afraid.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Laughs Mr. Pop. “In fact, I’m going to shave your mane whether you talk or not!”
The lion quivers.
“And then, I’m going to eat it!”
Mr. Pop laughs at the lion.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Please don’t eat my mane!” Pleads the lion.
You see? Mr. Pop does know how to make a lion talk.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Says Mr. Pop, with little compassion.
“If you spare my mane,” says the lion “then I can show you a bigger lion.”
The lion doesn’t want to lose his mane. The lion has always taken care of its mane, and placed just the right amount of rotting meat between its jaws. This lion must be popular with the ladies.
“Oh?” Asks Mr. Pop.
“Yes!” Says the lion. “I can take you to the Mara!”
The wind gusts through the tall grass, as the land sighs at the name of the Mara. The lion’s mane quivers in the sudden breeze. Mr. Pop watches it with greedy eyes, licking his lips and switching the electric clippers, with portable battery pack, on and off.
On, and off.
“All right.” He says. “I agree.”
Mr. Pop isn't only a bad man, he’s a greedy man. And so the lion takes him to the Mara, and Mr. Pop will make it speak. Oh yes he will.
“Ha! Ha! Oh…” Says Mr. Pop, and he drops the clippers.
The Mara stretches and claws of long white wood sprout from feet that dwarf Mr. Pop.
The Mara yawns. The crackling pop of its jaw mimics the sound of a thousand wildebeest, thundering past.
The Mara roars and the sun rises through its throat, scattering the vultures to the corners of the African sky.
The Mara speaks, and Mr. Pop didn’t even have to ask.
“LAND,” speaks the Mara. And it eats Mr. Pop.
Ha ha ha.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Laughs Mr. Pop.
He’s a bad man.
One day, under the scorching sun of the equator, Mr Pop catches sight of a particularly magnificent lion. It rests in the shade and licks its lion chops with its huge lion tongue. It has a fiery red mane, that is the biggest that Mr. Pop has ever seen.
Mr. Pop waves his electric clippers, with the portable battery pack.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
He knows how to get a lion to talk.
He leaps from his Jeep, and runs to the lion on his long spindly legs.
“Ha!” He says. “You are a lion. I am a man!”
The lion says nothing.
Mr. Pop holds forth the electric clippers, with the portable battery pack.
“Do you know what this is?” He asks.
The lion rolls its shoulders. Perhaps that is a lion shrug? Mr. Pop doesn’t know.
“I’m going to shave your mane, unless you talk to me!”
The lion yawns. By casual coincidence the lion has revealed its huge lion teeth to Mr. Pop. They are as long as his hand, with little stringy pieces of meat rotting at their bases. It exhales with a whoosh that bathes Mr. Pop with the smell of safari carcass. Mr. Pop smiles.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Mr. Pop likes the smell of the dead. He’s a bad man.
The lion stretches. With this most natural of movements, the lion has inadvertently shown Mr. Pop how large its claws are. They are very large claws. Just one could disembowel Mr. Pop with a single swipe, and his guts would fall out of his body and land in the dust.
Plop.
Mr. Pop brandishes his electric clippers, with the portable battery pack. He presses a nifty little button, and enables the extra function. Three legs sprout from its side. It’s no ordinary electric clipper, with a portable battery pack. It has lion taming chair action!
The lion looks a little afraid.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Laughs Mr. Pop. “In fact, I’m going to shave your mane whether you talk or not!”
The lion quivers.
“And then, I’m going to eat it!”
Mr. Pop laughs at the lion.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Please don’t eat my mane!” Pleads the lion.
You see? Mr. Pop does know how to make a lion talk.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Says Mr. Pop, with little compassion.
“If you spare my mane,” says the lion “then I can show you a bigger lion.”
The lion doesn’t want to lose his mane. The lion has always taken care of its mane, and placed just the right amount of rotting meat between its jaws. This lion must be popular with the ladies.
“Oh?” Asks Mr. Pop.
“Yes!” Says the lion. “I can take you to the Mara!”
The wind gusts through the tall grass, as the land sighs at the name of the Mara. The lion’s mane quivers in the sudden breeze. Mr. Pop watches it with greedy eyes, licking his lips and switching the electric clippers, with portable battery pack, on and off.
On, and off.
“All right.” He says. “I agree.”
Mr. Pop isn't only a bad man, he’s a greedy man. And so the lion takes him to the Mara, and Mr. Pop will make it speak. Oh yes he will.
“Ha! Ha! Oh…” Says Mr. Pop, and he drops the clippers.
The Mara stretches and claws of long white wood sprout from feet that dwarf Mr. Pop.
The Mara yawns. The crackling pop of its jaw mimics the sound of a thousand wildebeest, thundering past.
The Mara roars and the sun rises through its throat, scattering the vultures to the corners of the African sky.
The Mara speaks, and Mr. Pop didn’t even have to ask.
“LAND,” speaks the Mara. And it eats Mr. Pop.
Ha ha ha.