A Tiger In The Hall

Funny things happen to people with imagination. Take Samuel B. Crowley for instance. Of course, he was born on the thirteenth of the month; that could have had something to do with his curious misfortune. And his mother did feed him broccoli (boiled, of course, along with beef broth and boiled potatoes. They never had butter either - bad for the complexion, his mother said.). But he had always had an active imagination, that cannot be denied. Samuel's childhood was nothing exceptional, as childhoods go; he had the usual bumps and scrapes, the playtime squabbles and the boyish desire for adventure. On some days he wished he was a safari hunter, stalking fierce lions through the tall grasses of Africa. Unfortunately, being born in Dayton, Ohio, and never having relocated from that fair metropolis, Samuel was forced to substitute for African plains, the neighbor's weedy backyard; and for fierce lions, the neighbor's paranoid cat. The cat had no imagination, and even less sense of adventure, and soon developed a strange nervous tic, and an absolute terror of red-headed boys with sticks. He was often misunderstood as a child - Samuel, that is, not the cat. (The cat may very well have been misunderstood, but he had little imagination and thus, this story is not about him.) His teachers called him an "unruly child" (Mr. Bromell, 3th grade homeroom), a "pest" (Ms. Salsbury, 4th grade science), or even "out of control" (this was Mrs. Cruz, his 6th grade Spanish teacher, but she had very little patience for imaginative pupils, so maybe we should leave this remark aside.) It wasn't that Samuel didn't try to be good, but when one is a young boy with a good imagination, numbers become fierce animals, science textbooks have little drawing, and Spanish... well, Spanish just wasn't his cup of tea. As Samuel's younger years faded into the mechanical aspersion's of adulthood, his lively imagination faded as well. He no longer spent time chasing unrealistic dreams; his free time was spent in laborious study, and Africa became just another page in the world atlas. Samuel began to pursue a Bachelors in Accounting; not from any romanticized drawing toward that occupation, but more because his influential relations thought that it would be a noble calling for him. He was well on his way to becoming a recognized socialite and a modestly rich single man, in much demand among elderly gentlemen with eligible daughters, when the incident to which I am now referring took place. The whole thing was a mistake, really. A poorly written memo, some mis-communications, and the stuffed tiger are mostly to blame. The memo wasn't meant to cause harm. It was hastily written, indicating that Samuel was to come to the house post-haste, and to bring all his wits with him. A rather busy elderly gentleman was looking forward to an enjoyable evening of discussion in matters of politics and religion. The hurried scribble was definitely not intended to indicate any sort of danger. In fact, Samuel would have easily recognized this, had he not been frightened by the mysterious circumstances involving the fisherman's ghost the evening before. His hasty assumptions were to have dramatic impact on the excitement of the evening, however. It was certainly quite fortunate that he was not armed at the time. The walls of the home were quite thin, and any sort of revolver round would have passed through several rooms, wreaking havoc on the home and turning the situation into a very serious one. Everyone agreed the umbrella did quite enough damage as it was. Nor that it was the tiger's fault; he was quite dead at the time. He really couldn't help looking imposing there in the front hall, standing tall and proud, claws outstretched, teeth bared... he was supposed to look regal and impressive, but in just the right light he could be down-right menacing. Everyone felt sorry for him afterwards. How was he to know? It was quite embarrassing for Samuel - he was the subject of every joke for months afterwards. He even heard about it during interviews for a job - They sounded so glib, so sarcastic... it festered for quite some time. Poor Samuel. Funny things can happen to people with imagination, you know.