Above His Station (12 page)

‘If you really are unaware of what has transpired then I shall tell you, although it will aid you naught,’ began the King. ‘Something occurred this morning to tilt the balance of this world, orchestrated by those with a power that defies description.’

‘Orchestrated? You mean…on
purpose?
’ I asked.

King Simba exchanged an almost unnoticeable look with the ocelot. ‘Tell me, human, how did you come to be the lone survivor of your species? How is it that you were unchanged by its effect?’

‘By what’s effect?’ I found myself asking, when what I was really thinking about was being called a survivor. It was too much to consider myself as something like that. I didn’t even know what it was that I was supposed to have survived, let alone how I had survived it.

‘This rotation of power in this zoo has fallen in my favour,’ said King Simba. ‘I have been allocated my kingdom - the lion’s share, if you will - and I am perfectly satisfied by the outcome. If you ask me, this planet is better off without mankind. Do you know how demeaning it is for a king to be locked in a cage? It is a daily torture for me. But now we are all free…and as long as I rule that is how it shall remain.’

A rousing cheer went up all over the enclosure, and I was suddenly very aware of being in the minority that wanted to get this mess straightened out.

‘But, Your Highness,’ I said, taking a step forward – until one of the panthers roared at me, so I carefully retook my former position. ‘Your Highness, I don’t understand how this could have happened. What caused it? Animal rights activists? Is that who it was?’

‘The truth is a little more complicated, and I question whether a frail mind such as yours could handle it,’ said King Simba. ‘For what man has wrought, now he has paid the ultimate price.’

‘Price?
What
price?’ I asked - edging dangerously close to demanded.

King Simba growled, but thankfully did nothing but flop back into his throne lazily. Lazily was good. He was far less likely to eat me if he was lazy. He clapped his substantial paws together a couple of times and the two lionesses resumed their positions of adulation.

‘This audience is over,’ he told me. ‘I require intercourse.’

‘Your Majesty, wait!’ I implored the lion, not wanting to get in the way of him having his way. ‘I don’t have any clue what’s happened, nor who caused it, nor even
why
they caused it. But…as you say, my species has paid the price. All I want to know is why.’

‘And that is why you came to my kingdom?’ asked the King. ‘Knowing that it would mean your end?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s already my end when you think about it. I only want to know what I’ve done to deserve it. Please…won’t you help me?’

‘I cannot…and furthermore, I
will
not.’ The King clapped his paws again and the armoured panthers surrounded me, each one of them extending their claws. ‘Your species has had its lot…and now the reign of man is over.’

‘Not yet, it’s not!’ I said, defiantly. ‘I’m living proof of that!’

‘Proof?’ laughed the King. ‘Let me tell you what you are, human. You are an aberration; a
mistake
…and one that I intend to rectify. Guards…kill this man.’

8

I know what you’re thinking. Quite a pickle I’d managed to get myself into. As bad as bad situations could possibly get, this one was a winner hands down. As the four panthers enclosed me tighter within their circle, I knew that my death was going to be a painful one. Spears of moonlight through the glass dome above made their claws look as if they were made of stainless steel, and I was put in mind of the surgical instruments you always see on
Casualty
; strange, alien-looking utensils for slicing through flesh, for cutting through bone, for making deep incisions. They were always so shiny, yet in another era they might have been regarded as instruments of torture. As the panthers raised their paws to strike I found myself regretting the fact that I’d just spent my last remaining moments alive noticing something so inconsequential…

‘Okay, Gramps, this is what we’re going to do,’ said the rat’s voice in my ear. It had been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten about it. ‘Just go with the flow and then maybe we can both live to get killed another day.’ As it whispered into my ear, I felt my forehead tighten into a frown.

‘You want me to do
what?
’ I gasped.

‘Trust me!’ said the rat. ‘No questions, no arguments – just go with me on this, okay?’

‘I suppose so,’ I mumbled, ‘although this sounds extremely bizarre and I’m not quite sure how it’s supposed to save our necks.’ Even so, I decided to follow the rat’s directions to the letter. I did not question, I did not argue. I only hoped that it would do the trick and appease the King. ‘Your Majesty, if you would offer a condemned man one last request?’ I said, repeating the rat’s words in my ear verbatim.

King Simba chewed on my appeal for a moment, which was a heck of a lot better than him chewing on me. ‘What is it that you desire, last human?’

I stepped up onto one of the rocky podiums to give my words a bit more gravitas and, looking across the enclosure, I caught the eyes of the big cat band and (may I just say that I only did this because the rat insisted it was going to work, not because I thought it was a particularly sane thing to do) I began clicking my fingers to the beat in my right ear.

‘Okay, chaps,’ I called to the big cat band, ‘give me a Djembe polyrhythm with the tom-toms and lay down the bongos with a reggae lick to the side, and you-’ I pointed to the caracal, ‘go easy on the cymbals.’

Now, bearing in mind that if by this point your disbelief hasn’t already been not only suspended but lynched by its neck until its legs stop twitching, you still would never believe what happened next. I was there and I still have a bit of trouble with it myself.

With all eyes upon me, I opened my mouth and a reedy falsetto resounded from a location just underneath my anorak’s collar as the rat sang:

‘
Eee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-oo-
wee
-ooo-
wee
-om-om-ow
eh. Eeee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-oo-
wee
-oooo-
wee
-om-om-ow
ehhhhh
.’

Slight pause.

‘
A
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
wehhh
, a-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a-wimoweh
.’

The King sat on his throne with a confused expression upon his furry face. The ocelot by his side also seemed bemused by the whole thing. The two lionesses next to them seemed relatively nonplussed. The band of lynxes, cougars and caracals, meanwhile, were all getting into the rhythm, nodding their heads and tapping their paws.

The rat directed me to mime taking a deep breath for this next bit as it sang:

‘
In the jungle,

the mighty jungle,

the lion sleeps tonight.

In the jungle,

the quiet jungle,

the lion sleeps tonight.
’

Two female leopards got up on stage and began to do backing vocals: ‘
A
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a-
wimowehhh
.
’

And the rat warbled a harmonious ‘
Eeee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-ooo-wee-ooo-
wee
-om-om-ow
ehh. Eeee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-ooo-wee-ooo-
wee
-om-om-
owehh
.’

And then it became one of the most breathtaking (yet completely surreal) experiences that I have ever witnessed in my entire life, and considering all that I had done that day, that’s a bold statement. As the backing vocalists’ and the rat’s voices combined into a soulful melody, one of the male tigers at the back of the enclosure started to clap his hands (paws) together. Soon, another cat joined in, followed by another and another and another until the whole place was clapping along. An industrious bobcat had the idea of using one of the broken car wing-mirrors from the panthers’ discarded armour pile and he angled it towards the domed roof. As the mirror’s fractured glass caught the moonlight, waves of multi-coloured diamonds floated across the stage, illuminating me in all the colours of the rainbow. I was still miming away, relying on the rat to do all the hard work, and then I looked over at King Simba. I could see a slight movement in one of his feet (paws) as he fought the urge to tap it. I could see the obsequious ocelot by his side fighting it too. The cavorting cats that had formerly been dancing seductively vacated their podiums and crowded around the base of the rock that I was stood upon (where they continued to cavort and dance seductively, which didn’t help my concentration). They were all swaying their hips and raising their arms (paws) in the air, and eventually King Simba could not resist joining in himself. He got up out of his throne and started jigging about (I think Claire would have called it ‘
Dad Dancing
’) and then he even dragged the ocelot up to dance too.

The rat was having so much fun that it decided to go into the 2
^nd
verse.

‘
Near the village,

the peaceful village,

the lion sleeps tonight.

Near the village,

the quiet village,

the lion sleeps tonight
.’

(All together now)

‘
A
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh
.’

And with a ‘
Eeee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-ooo-wee-ooo-
wee
-om-om-ow
ehhh. Eeee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-ooo-wee-ooo-
wee
-om-om-
owehh.’

Don’t ask me where a puma got its paws on a piccolo, but it hopped up onto my platform and performed a highly-proficient solo to rapturous applause. The enclosure was electric and I must admit that it was impossible not to get swept up in it all as the rat obviously felt confident in its vocal range to attempt the final verse:

Hush, my darling,

don’t fear, my darling

the lion sleeps tonight.

Hush, my darling,

don’t fear, my darling,

the lion sleeps tonight.

(Everybody!)

‘
A
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh
,
a
-wimo
weh, a
-wimo
weh,
’ went the entire enclosure, and there wasn’t a single cat without voice, with some of the more confident ones even joining the rat in the ‘
Eee
-ooo-
wee
-ooo-
e-e
-ooo-wee-ooo-
wee
-om-om-ow
ehhh
,’ bit, until it ended the performance with a flourishing improvisation of ‘
Ah-heeee-oo-wee-eee-ooo-oo-om-om-omoweh…ah-haaaa-la-la-la-laa-weee-om-om-owehh…’
(to fade…)

It was such a shame when it all came to an end.

I swear there was an accumulated sigh from the audience as every cat slowly returned back to their positions with heavy hearts and heavier feet (paws). I was sweating buckets by this time. I’ve only ever tried karaoke once for a laugh at David and Laura’s 3
^rd
anniversary when they hired out a hall. I did “
My Way
” by Frank Sinatra (the only song that I know all the way through) and by the end I was quite enjoying being the centre of attention. Even though I can’t sing for toffee, I certainly looked the part, milking the audience like a seasoned pro. Although I suspected that had I been the one in charge of appeasing the King with my vocal talents, I would already be dead. At the very least I would have had my tongue ripped out so that I couldn’t continue crooning.