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I'll Have the Saber-Tooth Latte |
Disclaimer: To the family of the man who was senselessly mauled by the tiger at the coffee shop outside the San Francisco zoo; this is a terrible tragedy and our hearts go out to you.
That being said, what the fuck, yo?
Can you imagine that? You stop into your favorite, local café for a warm cup of joe to relieve your holiday shopping stress, when suddenly: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! IT’S A GODDAMN TIGER! RUN, MOTHERFUCKERS, RUN! AHHH!
I’m not making this up. One guy’s head was bitten into. His fucking melon, okay?
Because of the fatality, severe injuries, and the fact that it was unresponsive to the trainers and police, the tiger had to be put down. Aww… It’s sad. I know. Oh, wait. The fucking tiger chomped on a dude’s noggin, remember! How soon we forget, I see.
Because I’m the kind of guy who thinks about such things; do you think anyone had time to shit their pants? I’m serious. Wouldn’t that have made you less appealing to the animal? Honestly, in a situation like that, what do you do? You can’t outrun or out-climb the thing. It will catch you. Do you hide? But where on a moment’s notice? Do you play dead and hope he buys it? Remember to control that heaving breathing and escalating heart-rate, people.
I say hats off to the survivors. What a story to tell, huh? Thirty years from now, you’re sitting around the fireplace on a frigid Christmas Eve with extended family, doing countless shots of eggnog just to keep from choking each other. Then, like every year, you launch into your Saber Tooth Latte story for the millionth time and all the kids collectively roll their bored, annoyed, and resentful eyes. “That’s right, kids. I was giving the barista my daily allowance of flack, when the tiger pounced, and I urinated on myself—possibly saving dozens of lives. What’s that? No, Veronica, I had not yet tasted my fifty-seven-ounce beverage. The barista was slacking on the macking, as the kids say. I was waiting for eons; hence I was showering her with the uber flack. Damn it all! Stop picking your nose when I tell my horrific tale of woe, Timmy! For fuck’s sake, pay attention! Following my example just might save your life one day. What did you just say? ‘I’m just a yuppie pussy and getting attacked by a man-eating tiger doesn’t happen every day’? Did I hear you right? You think that’s funny, you little shit? Laugh all you want, you spoiled piss-ant. But you’d better start learning to shit your pants in public, young man. You can be cool and dead or emasculated and live to tell the tale. I chose to live and have a family, but got stuck with this...and all of you. Alas, fate is a cruel, cruel mistress. Now, quit your whining and pass the eggnog, you sycophantic suck-ups. Merry fucking Christmas, kids.”
copyright 2009
Eric
Lawson |
