Real or Fantasy?
Safari Park
by Linda
The lion stretched sinuously and rose, shaking its magnificent
mane. He sniffed the air, then padded towards his still-sleeping mate and cuffed
her, none too gently, round the side of the head. She wakened with a snarl and
made as though to retaliate, before realising who had dealt the blow. Instead,
she rolled over and lay submissively on her back, watching his every move.
“Oh, look,” I giggled. “Even the lions practise domestic discipline!”
You smiled, and continued to drive slowly through the animal enclosure, stopping
for a moment as a couple of bison strolled across the track, and an ostrich
peered inquisitively into the car. I drew a hand across my forehead. “It’s
awfully warm in here,” I said. “Couldn’t we open the sunroof a little?”
With a scathing glance, you replied sharply. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re
in a park full of wild animals. You’ve been scratched by the cat...just
imagine what a lion could do to you.”
I subsided with a sigh. Really, I couldn’t see the harm in opening it just a
tiny crack, but you were adamant, so I said no more. “Awww, isn’t that
pretty?” I cooed, as I saw Bambi and his mother basking in the sunshine.
“Oh, just look at that!” This time I had spotted two little bear cubs
playing a game of ‘chase-me-roll-me-over’ and I grabbed for the camera.
Obligingly, you slowed down to let me take a couple of snaps. But the sun was
catching on the glass...and the picture was just too good to miss...and so...
“Right! That is the final straw!” you yelled, startling me so much that I
almost dropped the camera out of the now open window. “Get that closed *now*!
We’re heading straight for home, and when we get there I’m going to blister
your behind so hard you won’t sit for a month!”
The final straw? Ah...yes...well...I haven’t mentioned the first and second
straws yet, have I? It was the chickens first. Ok, so there were notices up
saying, ‘Do NOT put your fingers through the fence.’ But who’d have
thought a chicken could be so vicious? It was a very pretty chicken, a Rhode
Island Red...kind of like Foghorn Leghorn...and it came running up looking so
friendly, and I just wanted to touch it. I didn’t know it would actually
attack me!
You showed me very little sympathy as I wiped the blood off on my jeans, and
stuck my finger in my mouth to soothe the smart. “If you want to touch the
animals,” you said with a shake of your head, “then go to the children’s
petting zoo.” So I did, and enjoyed myself thoroughly, stroking pot-bellied
pigs, cuddling sheep, and tickling the llama under the chin.
Then came the boat trip. We piled into the little river-boat and set off to
visit Chimpanzee Island. Of course, we weren’t allowed to disembark, but only
observe and take photographs from the boat. I just knew I could get a better
picture if I stood up on the seat and leaned over that guard-rail, and I
didn’t mean to drop the camera-case overboard. And, yes, I suppose I *would*
have fallen in after it if you hadn’t grabbed me by the seat of my denims and
hauled me back. But you didn’t have to lecture me all the way back, and
threaten to warm that very seat if I didn’t start paying attention to warning
notices.
Back on dry land, we passed a sign which announced, ‘Unruly children will be
fed to the tigers!” I was quite amused by it until you whispered your own
version of it in my ear. “And unruly wives will be upended and spanked!” I
decided I’d better behave. And I really meant to. It was just...the cubs were
so cute, and none of the lions came near us, and nothing happened...
But something was going to happen as soon as we got home, that much was evident
from your grim expression as we drove away from the Safari Park. The sensible
thing for me to do would have been to keep quiet and look penitent...preferably
with downcast eyes and nervously twisting hands. An occasional biting of the lip
and an apologetic glance or two wouldn’t have gone amiss either.
Naturally, I did nothing of the sort. I huffed. I muttered under my
breath...though loud enough for you to hear...about people who had no sense of
adventure, dull folk who had to obey every last rule. In short, I talked myself
into an even worse hiding than I was already due!
On reaching home, I tried to stall. “I’ll just take these toy wallabies
round to the children,” I said brightly.
You shook your head. “Later,” you replied firmly. “We have things to
discuss. Upstairs.”
Discuss? Somehow, I didn’t think I’d be doing a lot of talking, so I made
another attempt. “How about dinner?” I suggested. “I thought I’d make
those cheese things you like, and...” I trailed off as the expression on your
face told me I was fighting a losing battle. Shrugging helplessly, I bowed to
the inevitable.
I stumbled up the stairs after you, and sat on the bed trying to look contrite.
As you sat beside me, I thought for a moment that we actually *were* going to
have a discussion, but that hope was soon dashed as you pushed me upright and
proceeded to loosen the button and zip of my jeans.
A moment later I was sprawled in an undignified heap across your lap, bottom
bare and quivering. SMACK! You landed the first one so suddenly that I yelped
with surprise. SPLAT! “OW! That hurts!” I complained, squirming a bit.
“I know...it’s supposed to hurt,” you replied, dishing out number three.
SPANK! “It hurts a lot less than being eaten by lions...” SMACK! “...or
chickens!” you added. The humour was lost on me by that point. SPLAT! “When
will you learn...” SPANK! “..that rules are for your own safety?” SMACK!
“I’ve learned! I’ve learned!” I yelled, trying to twist myself away from
your hand. SPLAT! “OUCH! I’ll never...OW!...disregard another rule...YEOW!
...as long as I live!” I promised recklessly.
“Huh!” you responded in disbelief. “I’ll tell you something...” SPANK!
“...if you don’t start paying attention...” SMACK! “...to warning
notices...” SPLAT! “...you won’t live...” SPANK! “...very much
longer!” SMACK!
“Oh, pleeeeeease! Stop now,” I begged, the fire becoming just a bit more
than I could stand. “I’ll behave...I swear!”
But just to make sure, you delivered another five or six, ascertaining that if I
hadn’t been really sorry before, I certainly was now. I scrambled up and
retrieved my jeans and panties. I was sniffling miserably as I made my
apologies, and you stood up to give me a cuddle.
“You know, sweetheart,” you murmured, “pest as you are, I’d hate to see
you as dinner for the wildlife. Now...talking of dinner. What about those cheese
things you mentioned? But,” you added in playful warning, “don’t eat the
‘lion’s’ share of them yourself...I couldn’t ‘bear’ it!”
*groan!*