If I were a tiger and I were shown that the stories about the hard work on stage were not just some scary fairy tales but painful reality, my bleached fur suddenly exposed to bright and hot limelight, hundreds of people making silly clapping noises to top this all....
If I were a tiger and somebody hit me over the head, with a microphone, or anything, I would probably grab them by that arm, or like a kitten, by the neck, and I would carry them back into a darker place, where we could talk about this little incident in private. I would not use my claws, I would not really hurt anyone, I would let go when I would be nicely asked to... be it with a fire extinguisher or what not.
If I were a tiger, and I were fed chicken every day, and if I had to share a tiny Manhattan apartment with a suspiciously quiet reptile roommate... I would probably shred the furniture and try to get my attention in some other way... (Call for help?, Bite something?, go to the bathroom a lot?)
If I were a tiger and I lived in the bronx... I would pretend that I am a friendly guy who is scared of new toys and who loves to carry around a tire...
But I am not a tiger, of course... what am I?...
oh what a great ever so charming and lovely post. i have been thinking about that tiger all night, has anyone said how the hell he got there? and why wasn't steve irwin called for the crocodile thing?
today the tiger story was on the front page of the free newspaper you get on the buses over here :)
Like a kitten by the neck indeed...
http://www.cnn.com/2003/SHOWBIZ/10/08/siegfried.roy/index.html