1.   Artist Chunks.

The lion woke up in the morning. He yawned and swallowed the Sun.

 

The lion was old, his mane and beard white. His eyes though the same green-blue of his youth loved by all the lionesses past. That unfailing, unblinking gaze into the real, or not so real, his mind was still a laser, starbeams of a crisp winter night. He remembered last evening he was tired. Two failed hunts….

Yes, the antelope was too fast for his joints, but the zebra baby he could have had, but he let up…. He saw the helpless mother in the distance. He thought out his own instincts in one flash: he would rather go hungry than deal with a sad mother zebra braying all night and all day in loss, in pain. And cursing him to the eternal fires…………………………… So he broke into a trot,

then stopped.

 

He was hungry no more this morning. Tired yes, but not hungry.

Strange! The lion smiled and yawned. The Sun he swallowed came out again over the bushes. Made it into a large, happy day.

The lion had fallen asleep under the baobab tree. Being hungry but happy is better than being full and sad… The lion felt that these kinds of thoughts were a recent development in him. Not only was he slowing naturally, but he was starting to think what some may say, unnatural thoughts. This made him smile again. And the thermal from that smile floated the Sun further up over the tree line. Just then, he heard a distant

 

buzzing. He crouched, tightened by instinct among the tall grass. The buzzing grew louder.

 

It was one of those man-made sky-bees. The lion had known them before. They have circle wings. They send stings from the sky to kill or to paralyze. He took cover. One must always guard against cowards.

Cowards do not fight face to face. Like an elephant or a cheetah. And cowards are not normal. Plus he had seen humans inside those sky-bees. And humans are the most abnormal cowards. There is nearly nothing good in them.

 

The bee made one pass. Then came back around in a circle. The lion thought this was odd. He might have been sighted. So he shifted into even taller and thicker shrubs. This was akin to being rain inside clouds. Perfect hiding from human understanding.

 

The helicopter landed on the clearing. The three wings fell still, dust cleared, humans jumped out of it. The lion froze in camouflage.

“I saw him! Be careful, he is hiding in the tall bushes!” One man in long jackboots said to the other man carrying a mean rifle. They turned and looked in the exact opposite direction to where the lion was.

“Okay, let’s get her done! Get the container!”

“Wait, before we do this, you sure this is legal?” “Who cares, we got paid ten grand, didn’t we?” “Well that don’t mean it’s right!”

 

“Well okay, suit yourself. You got doubts, don’t take the money. This guy was some sort of an artist or something. He paid a lot of money for this to be first entered into his will, then some high priced lawyer is executing his wishes. You flew here after we said ‘yes’! C’mon now, let’s take care of this!”

“I don’t know man, feeding the guy’s meat to a hungry lion in the middle of Africa?”

“It’s crazy yes, but he paid for exactly that!

“It says only the best parts of his body, after the organs were all donated.” “Let’s get the lawyer out!”

The other man reluctantly agreed.

He walked up to the copter, held the door open.

A plump man in three piece suit jumped out like a yoga ball. He bounced around all smiles. He fixed down his safari hat with one hand, then plunked open the small flip screen of a video camera, started filming.

“Well fellas it’s payday, shall we?”

The two men got the plastic container out. It was all fancy sealed and stamped. A thermometer stuck out of it showing optimal temperature. “Fellas, be careful now, wear gloves. Read the instructions, they must be followed to the word!”

“Yes sir!” the men said.

“Boy oh boy, this is going to be some documentary!” He trained the lens right on the container. “Go on now, break the seals!”

The lid came off. Inside were neatly packed zip locked bags of meat, some with shanks, some not.

 

“Holy shit, this looks just like packed meat!” The pilot turned away trying to contain vomit. The lawyer laughed.

“And I present you the artist formerly known as The Sven!”

One by one the men chucked the pieces onto the grassy opening. The guy with the gun had his hand where he could swing it at a moment’s notice.

“We gotta hurry! The old boy may smell this real quick!”

 

The lion thought the whole thing as bizarre. But he had once heard an old English hunter mutter something strange under his breath as he left the bush and called it a day. “Ah well, discretion is the better part of valor!” The lion always learned best from his worthy adversaries. He remained crouched.

 

The bee finally lifted off. It became a speck in the sky.

 

The lion crept out. It was a strange sort of meat, he thought. The flies would not land on it. It did not even smell a bit. He crouched closer, his nostrils flared as he waited. He raised his head and extended his snout and sniffed, his ears bounced off the flies, yet none went towards the slabs….

Finally he was over the chunks and slabs, they looked delicious. He licked his face to control his saliva, then naturally his tongue slapped a piece. The lion got an electric shock of taste, his mind went numb, his eyes circled….

 

The lion saw colors he had never seen before!

 

He devoured four pieces. And magically he was full, and he panted tired and sated. The taste struck him as odd indeed. So little meat filled so much. He went back away from the clearing into the bushes. Hyenas and jackals left this area near the baobab tree alone. Even buzzards and vultures avoided it, they knew this was the lion’s haunt.

 

In the bushes the lion yawned and fell asleep.

 

And he had the best dream. In this dream he was with a most gorgeous, magnificent lioness. She was of great stock and breed, her breasts heaving and her flanks curved for power and thrusts. This lovely thing was posing for him, head tilted, her full mouth open and inviting, she was reclined in a regal swoon. And the old lion was painting her with all his power, all his poetry and his infinite glory. He had become the painter lion!