Friday, November 8, 2013

Tigers On A Gold Leash

I've been listing to "Royals" by Lorde on repeat for the last half hour. The song has helped me realize that if I ever become uber wealthy I will become one of those people that buys themselves a tiger.

It will start out lovely. The tiger will be a cub and I will shun all human contact and just spend time with my awesome tiger. I'll buy him a gold leash and a diamond collar, and we will walk through the neighborhood. I'll feed him small, ugly dogs.

My tiger will grow strong and beautiful. As he approaches adolescence, I'll realize that I'm growing bored with him. As tigers go, he's fine, but just UGH, taking care of a tiger is a lot of work.  The relationship will be strained. My tiger will feel the tension, and he'll begin to think about eating me.

I'll let him think about it for a few weeks. I'll let him plan his attack--pouncing on me when my back is turned, and dragging me, by the neck, back to his gold basket.

When I'm positive that his plan is in place, I'll take him by his gold leash and lead him into the library. I'll show him what became of the other boring tigers. Then I'll use my gold steam roller to make him into a flat tiger rug.

It's probably best that I stay poor.

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