The Arena

Apud Fredric Brown

The sleep had glued my mouth, making me feel a bitter taste and I swore for the umpteenth time that I’d never put any booze in my mouth again. Like usual, I’ll forget these oaths the moment I get to the club with the boys.

I tried to lie better and then, all of a sudden, I realized I was not in my bed. I held out my hand and I met some rough hair. Before opening my eyes completely I asked myself how drunk I could have been the night before to get in bed with such a woman. I stretched myself and I tried to turn over: maybe I should better pretend I am still sleeping and she will have the decency to leave unnoticed. Not a chance: women, the rougher their hair, the more churl they are, I found myself formulating one of the laws I was to forget the moment I got rid of my hangover.

A kick in my ribs made me open my eyes over an incredible scene: I was lying with half of my body over the thick mane of a lion that was snoring gently and farther on I could see a lioness too. My hand was resting on the lion’s mane and,