Metamorphosis
The lion and the zebra stared into each other’s eyes, frozen in the kind of awkward silence that would have occurred if the lion had stepped on the zebra’s foot. They hardly moved-statues on the African plains. Statues who had been dedicated so long ago that no one remembered for whom they were dedicated. Brittle statues, weakened through the years to the point where the zebra’s ear had broken off and lay sadly in the grass. The lion had stepped on that broken ear, not the zebra’s foot, and the ear had shattered, glass-like in its frailty.
The resulting noise had created the silence that followed but quickly fled the scene, afraid of the nervous tension spawned between the lion and the zebra. The nervous tension had not given up easily though and had chased the noise across the whole of Africa, leaving the lion, the zebra, and the shattered foot alone. (Sooner or later, the tension expressed its undying love for the noise and the two were happily married. The lion and zebra did not attend the wedding.)
Still, the air thickened between the two mammals, condensing as their stare continued. It became more and more difficult for the two to move-though they were both standing still-as the air grew thicker between them. It was no longer a physical representation of their nervous tension, since the tension had fled to the countryside, but rather was a metaphorical representation of the tension’s absence. The air grew so solid that it became difficult for anything at all to move through it that was not able to fan the air out of the way.
Only the lion’s gaze still reached the zebra through the murky fog, which the lion used to his advantage, directing it to box the zebra in. But the Lion made a mistake in his quest to hunt his pray. The zebra was able to peer through a tunnel of fog and read the murderous intent in the lion’s eyes, summarizing the lion’s cannibalistic ideals in a short paperback volume. The zebra didn’t agree with critics that the cookbook/autobiography deserved to be a bestseller, but in fact loathed the book for its expression of Anti-Zebraic views and a detailed description of how to cook them for lunch.
The appearance of the racy book startled and frightened the zebra, who struggled to free himself from the misty prison. But alas, he lacked the inspiration. He needed to sprout wings so that he could fly away, swatting the firm air out of his way. He needed to gain the motivation required to flutter away, but alas, his fear was constrained by the knowledge that just as he could not escape, the lion could not attack, and the zebra could not summon up the fear needed as inspiration.
The lion, on the other hand, was disappointed that he was not able to reach his lunch. He had gotten so excited before but was now stuck-a frozen ice cube. He knew that he would be trapped in place until he melted, when the heat of the moment made his body melt away. His mane, he knew, would go first. Hair after hair would melt in the heat melting away his mane. Then, his face would be exposed, and as his eyes began drooping he would savor the last delicious sight he saw. And as his whole body finally soaked into the ground, he would seep down, down into the Earth until he could evaporate out as steam, rising up to the upper atmosphere, where he would condense into a solid form again.
But no! Fearing such a fate, the lion roared horrendously, almost stirring the block of air around him. Although even such a mighty roar could not jar the heavy air, it jolted the zebra back to his senses. The zebra finally realized the lion would find a way to eat him no matter what; the zebra’s wings fanned away the air imprisoning him and carried him up into the sky. The zebra’s whole feathery head was pointed aerodynamically forward as he streamlined away through the sky, a bird in the clouds.
Metamorphosis!
The lion roared again, furious that the bird got away. He bounded through the ever-thinning air, running after the bird and his shadow. He gained speed slowly, until he could have zoomed off a ramp and flown into the air, propelled upwards by his inertia alone. The jet streams behind him burned the landscape, leaving a trail of misery everywhere he had been. The rocket’s nose rode towards the air, and it was propelled upwards, rapidly gaining on the little yellow canary.
The bird could only cherish its last moments as the rocket approached; it was not a fair match, a rookie challenging a master at his sport. The master approached the plate and, as the rookie pitifully tossed the ball, swung. The baseball shot towards the rookie, hitting him squarely between the eyes. The bird fell immediately, stunned by the baseball that had collided with it and the rocket exploded triumphantly in midair.
Metamorphosis!
The lion ate his catch, a freshly slain zebra, and smirked.
The resulting noise had created the silence that followed but quickly fled the scene, afraid of the nervous tension spawned between the lion and the zebra. The nervous tension had not given up easily though and had chased the noise across the whole of Africa, leaving the lion, the zebra, and the shattered foot alone. (Sooner or later, the tension expressed its undying love for the noise and the two were happily married. The lion and zebra did not attend the wedding.)
Still, the air thickened between the two mammals, condensing as their stare continued. It became more and more difficult for the two to move-though they were both standing still-as the air grew thicker between them. It was no longer a physical representation of their nervous tension, since the tension had fled to the countryside, but rather was a metaphorical representation of the tension’s absence. The air grew so solid that it became difficult for anything at all to move through it that was not able to fan the air out of the way.
Only the lion’s gaze still reached the zebra through the murky fog, which the lion used to his advantage, directing it to box the zebra in. But the Lion made a mistake in his quest to hunt his pray. The zebra was able to peer through a tunnel of fog and read the murderous intent in the lion’s eyes, summarizing the lion’s cannibalistic ideals in a short paperback volume. The zebra didn’t agree with critics that the cookbook/autobiography deserved to be a bestseller, but in fact loathed the book for its expression of Anti-Zebraic views and a detailed description of how to cook them for lunch.
The appearance of the racy book startled and frightened the zebra, who struggled to free himself from the misty prison. But alas, he lacked the inspiration. He needed to sprout wings so that he could fly away, swatting the firm air out of his way. He needed to gain the motivation required to flutter away, but alas, his fear was constrained by the knowledge that just as he could not escape, the lion could not attack, and the zebra could not summon up the fear needed as inspiration.
The lion, on the other hand, was disappointed that he was not able to reach his lunch. He had gotten so excited before but was now stuck-a frozen ice cube. He knew that he would be trapped in place until he melted, when the heat of the moment made his body melt away. His mane, he knew, would go first. Hair after hair would melt in the heat melting away his mane. Then, his face would be exposed, and as his eyes began drooping he would savor the last delicious sight he saw. And as his whole body finally soaked into the ground, he would seep down, down into the Earth until he could evaporate out as steam, rising up to the upper atmosphere, where he would condense into a solid form again.
But no! Fearing such a fate, the lion roared horrendously, almost stirring the block of air around him. Although even such a mighty roar could not jar the heavy air, it jolted the zebra back to his senses. The zebra finally realized the lion would find a way to eat him no matter what; the zebra’s wings fanned away the air imprisoning him and carried him up into the sky. The zebra’s whole feathery head was pointed aerodynamically forward as he streamlined away through the sky, a bird in the clouds.
Metamorphosis!
The lion roared again, furious that the bird got away. He bounded through the ever-thinning air, running after the bird and his shadow. He gained speed slowly, until he could have zoomed off a ramp and flown into the air, propelled upwards by his inertia alone. The jet streams behind him burned the landscape, leaving a trail of misery everywhere he had been. The rocket’s nose rode towards the air, and it was propelled upwards, rapidly gaining on the little yellow canary.
The bird could only cherish its last moments as the rocket approached; it was not a fair match, a rookie challenging a master at his sport. The master approached the plate and, as the rookie pitifully tossed the ball, swung. The baseball shot towards the rookie, hitting him squarely between the eyes. The bird fell immediately, stunned by the baseball that had collided with it and the rocket exploded triumphantly in midair.
Metamorphosis!
The lion ate his catch, a freshly slain zebra, and smirked.