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Lions and Bears

The bears and lion, normally mauling people and scratching their faces off, have been tied up and are now suspended from the ceiling by ropes. Jim, the man who tied them, says they like it, like a baby likes being swaddled. I must say, they do look relaxed, except for that one bear, with the tussled hair, he just looks pissed. I can't say I blame him. The bears aren't that smart; tying them up won't lead to developing insight, or awareness, as Don Juan Matus would suggest for his warriors.

Every now and then Jim comes around and pushes on the beast, and what's that? Is that a smile I see? Kooch-e-Kooch-e-koo. The bear can't stop himself from smiling. The swinging sends delightful ripples of joy down into his belly.

The bears have all but lost their appetite, which has it's advantages and disadvantages. The only disadvantage being that the bears will soon die. The advantages being less poo to clean, and the ecstatic heights reached by swinging and starving.

Because of mistakes I've made, and the subsequent punishment, I have been charged with untying the bears and lion. I'm hoping the bears will use what rationality they possess to realize it wasn't me who tied them up, and that I am not food, and that it wasn't me poking them, teasing them and singing off key to them. The look in their eyes, however, betrays all rationality. It speaks of the taste of flesh and blood, in any form, preferably human. Jim tells me to wear armour, I tell him that limits my movements.

I don't know whether to fear the lion the most or least. He doesn't move, but I could of sworn I saw him sneak a peek at me from the corner of his eye, while pretending to sleep. Or was that just my eyes playing tricks on me? We shall find out.

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