The Tiger

>not "then the teenagers fucked platonically for 12 hours."

There once was a tiger -- a ferocious animal, magnificent in it's size and swiftness, oh, if I could lay my own hands on the striped fur of such an awesome beast, climb on it and speed away or get trampled and cut up under its paws, ripped to shreds and fed to its young -- a tiger, as I was saying, who lived in a cage. This cage was five meters long, four meters deep, and two meters high, with thick bars wrought of iron. On the narrow side of the cage was a door, kept shut by an enormous padlock. The tiger had never seen a lock of its size. In fact, he had never seen another lock at all, as he had lived his entire life in this cage, his home. I wouldn't say he liked it per se, but when the kind, fair-skinned lady that would sometimes pass by and talk to him asked him what he thought of of this cage, he would never complain.
That was soon to change. As the years in that cage kept building up, so did the tiger's discontent with his surroundings. He would hear stories from knowledgeable passerby's about the infinite world beyond his bars, and would sometimes lie awake at night and dream of taking off to France, or Japan, or to the massive Russian kingdom, where he'd spend the halcyon days contently mulling over his thoughts on this and that with his good-spirited companions. They would play whist and drink their kvass, and by dusk they would enjoy the hearty dinners prepared for them by their lovely wives, Anna's and Olga's and God knows who else.

In time, the tiger would spend every waking hour imagining to the fullest detail all the adventures that he was missing out on, all the passion, camaraderie and heartbreak that he could be experiencing if not for the hindrance of these bars raised around him, shooting up from the ground and into the sky like a terrifying eagle's claws, keeping him in their eternal iron grip.
One day, the tiger had decided, or maybe he had just realized, that it was time for him to act. He motioned a bystander to get closer, a short, moustachioed man whose rather round head had a curious red gleam to it, and asked him to open the door to his cage.
"I can't," replied the man, "this padlock is the biggest I have ever seen, and I don't have the key."
"Well, get someone who has the key, then," snapped the tiger. Then, remorseful: "If you would, that is."
In spite of the tiger seemingly having lost his manners, the moustache sped off to find whoever had the key to the cage. I can only think to explain this by pointing out, once again, the daunting physique of the tiger, which was known to intimate those who would easily be intimidated by such things. I must add that those who had the chance to get to know the tiger personally would all agree that in spite of his appearance,head a rather pleasant personality.
The moustache did not return for a very long time. The tiger became impatient. He had waited in this cage his entire life, but had never desired freedom as much as he had now, and as such meandered restlessly around his cage, setting his paws on all twenty square meters of its floor. Eventually, the tiger's ears shot up, as if hearing a gunshot, or the icy screams of a woman in need. He turned, and saw a figure approaching from afar. Soon, it became clear that the one approaching was not the moustache from before, but rather a tall and slender man, who walked with a slow, deliberate pace, as if to suggest beforehand that the tiger's request was worth the time of none of the parties involved.
"Good afternoon, tiger," greeted the man as he halted in front of the cage, his arms rigidly on either side of his body and his chest positioned squarely above his feet, the posture of a man whose father had served in the army.
"Good afternoon, sir," replied the tiger. "Forgive me my directness, please, but might I ask you who you are?"
"I am your owner," spoke the man, or perhaps I should say, spoke the owner.
"Ah, then you must have the key to this cage!" The tiger perked up.
"That I do," smiled the owner.
"Dear sir, if you would, please unlock this door for me. I have had a good life in this cage, but now I dream of nothing more than to roam around the globe, and breathe in the air of the meadows, or of the midsummer storms. I want to live the life that is out there, and not in here!"
The owner shook his head.

The tiger's cage was destroyed today; or, maybe, yesterday. I can't remember.

>The tiger realized, with a sort of roar, that every cage he was recently trapped in had been created by himself, for himself, and at his own expense.

The tiger went out to stretch his legs.

for sale: tiger cage, almost new.

Classic lmao

Anonymous 09/28/17(Thu)16:40:33 No.10082641▶

>The Tiger
>He destroyed his cage
>Yes
>YES
>The tiger is out
Rewrite this in the style of your favorite author

"I sympathize with your fantasies, tiger, but fantasies they'll stay, I'm afraid. I have never had the chance to tell you before, but you are my most prized possession. No, truly! Without your roar, your stripes, and your paws, my zoological collection would be of no worth at all. Therefore, I'm afraid I simply cannot let you go. Besides, what were I to do with such a cage, if I didn't have you to fill it with?"
The tiger was shocked. He had asked, nicely, with all due respect and decorum, validly according to all the rules of etiquette that he knew, if this man would open the cage for him, and he simply refused! Not because of some inability, or because some orders coming through from someone else, but because of the tiger's own paws, stripes and roar!
"Please, dear sir, if you would, please grant me my only life's wish, to set foot in the free world! I want to visit the Tsars, the temples, the reefs! You must know how much I burn for this!"
The owner smiled.
"Tiger, it would be for the best of both of us if you could lay this matter to rest. I really am sorry, but there's nothing I can do."
The tiger stared, stupefied as he was by this momentous show of inconsideration. Then, suddenly, with a clarity that was rarely granted to him, he had an idea.
"Sir, I am honoured that you wish to keep me here for my beauty, but I must tell you that my fur might not please you for much longer. You see, and I regret you to inform this, but tigers tend to lose their stripes in captivity. Keep me here any longer, and they will all fall off, one by one, until there is nothing left of my decoration."
The owner smiled.
"I must thank you for considering my position, tiger, but I would not worry about such dramatic scenarios as the one you just painted. After all, having lived your whole life in this cage, would you not have lost a stripe already?"
The tiger fell silent, for he had not seen through the rather obvious flaw in his lie, designed to bring him freedom. Reluctantly, he continued: "You have the right of it, dear sir, absolutely. But besides this, I must admit to feeling a certain discomfort wash over my by the thought of never leaving this cage. I am afraid that this sadness is bad news for the both of us, as tigers with depression are known to have a terribly, almost embarrassingly weak roar. You would do better keeping a common housecat in here, he would be more reliable in making a scare than I would, if my complexion furthers as it is now."
The owner laughed.
"That, tiger, is just an old wives' tale. You would do better to pay them no mind in the future. Now, if you would excuse me, I have other business to tend to."

Wait!" pleaded the tiger. The owner, already on his way back to where he came from, turned around to face the tiger once more.
"What is it?" he asked. His brow was lower than before, and the smallest detail in his eyes, I couldn't say if it was a different reflection, or a change in size of his pupil, made clear that he had become ever so slightly annoyed with the situation.
"Dear sir, how woeful is it, that this fine way of living you have provided for me has already left its marks on my appearance, which still you highly praise! I simply cannot hide it from you any longer, although I would rather have things be the case as you see them. In truth, the paws that you seem to admire so have vanished long ago. The . . ."
"I am very sorry to interrupt you," furrowed the owner, "but this seems to me to be absolutely nonsensical. I can seenyour paws myself, even from over here! What else would you be standing on?"
"Ah," gleamed the tiger, "my paws are surely still under my legs. But what should be under my paws? My claws, of course. However, what do we see to be under my paws, in actuality? The floor of this cage, which has housed my for so long. The metal has been scraping away at my claws until there was nothing left, nothing at all. Now I am left a clawless tiger. Can a clawless tiger be said to be a tiger at all? Most certainly not. A clawless tiger would bring shame on anyone who would call such an animal the crowning piece of their zoo. Visitors would see that overblown pussy and leave the grounds immediately, mocking whoever would expose himself by exposing such a zestless creature. No, dear sir, I am most definitely unfit to stay here any longer."
To prove his remarks, the tiger lifted one of his paws up to the bars in front of his face. Like he had said, I couldn't point you to a single claw emerging from his fingers. Neither could the owner. He stood, awestruck, and ponderer.
"Your claws... The floor... The visitors...
Well, tiger, it seems I have to thank you for bringing this under my attention. In a state like this, I surely cannot continue to put you on display in such a state as this. It would indeed be a matter of great embarrassment if any visitors would be to see you without your exemplary claws. I must therefore evict you from these grounds posthaste, and find a suitable replacement for your position in my collection." Suddenly, he held a massive, black key in his hand, and before the tiger could register what was happening in front of him, the padlock had been removed and the door opened.
"Come now, tiger, you are free to go."
The tiger paced towards the exit of what had been his world up until this very moment. His mind tried to grasp and relive all of his past daydreams at once, failing, but leaving him with a magnificent feeling of euphoria. As he stepped through the door, he extended his claws. The tiger was free.