For Cecil

Here’s a little piece of flash fiction I wrote last week. I decided it was too timely to sit any longer on the Submittable shelf hoping for an appreciative lit mag editor. I hope you like it.

Walter woke disoriented and sore. The last thing he remembered was being grabbed in the grocery store parking lot and tossed roughly into the back of a van before a cloth that reeked of chloroform was forced over his nose and mouth. He thought something loud had awoken him. He was almost sure of it.

As reality swam into focus, he realized he was lying in one of his own dental chairs. Nitrous oxide was pumping into his lungs via a small gas mask. The mini blinds were closed and his watch was missing so he had no idea what time it was but it was bright thanks to the overhead fluorescents.

Strange, he thought as he pulled off the mask and let it drop to the floor. He’d turned off the lights when he closed the office two days prior. With all the public fuss as of late, he figured he wouldn’t reopen his practice for two weeks at least.

Another loud noise came from one of the adjacent hygienist rooms. There was no mistaking it this time. Someone had just knocked over a tray full of equipment, the devices clattering to the floor. The noise was followed by a deep growl and a snuffle. Walter furrowed his brow in confusion. He was still wobbly from the laughing gas, but whatever made that noise definitely didn’t belong here.

He got up slowly from the chair and then leaned upon it as he tried to regain his equilibrium. The room was spinning crazily and his legs felt like they were more well-cooked noodle than flesh and bone. He was still waiting for his balance to stabilize when a female lion stalked into the room and stood glaring at him from no more than six feet away.

Walter couldn’t help it. He giggled. Laughing gas will do that to you and the situation was simply too ridiculous. If he’d been right in the head, he might have wished for his hunting rifle or at least a bow and arrow, but instead he grinned and sang out, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty…”

The lioness’s golden eyes flashed a hatred that Walter recognized even in his current state. He screamed in terror just as she leapt toward him, ears flat against her head, jaws wide open. She tore into his belly, pulling out his entrails as his screams rose in volume before turning into nothing more than a wet, dying gurgle. 

She remained there feeding on the dentist’s bloody corpse until she was sated. And later, once she was napping comfortably in the middle of the office’s waiting room floor, the men came to tranquilize and take her away.

She slept all the way back home, dreaming her lion dreams. She dreamt of the beauty of the savanna. She dreamt of the warmth of her cubs. She dreamt of her longing for a husband taken too soon. And yet, she slept with the confidence that the law of the jungle would never die.