It was inevitable that there would be trouble when Bob was given a job feeding the lions at the zoo. After being imprisoned for knee-capping an illicit debt-collector, he felt he had finally 'gone straight'. His gambling addiction and violent temper were behind him - those five years in prison had mellowed him, made him appreciate the simple things in life. He had only got the job on the recommendation of his prison counsellor who said it would aid his rehabilitation.
Bob loved lions. They ate and slept and prowled as if the world belonged to them. Bob would sometimes sit and watch them for hours as they sat and sunbathed and licked their lips.
"It's brilliant!" he told his friend Jake in the pub one evening. "I mean, I have to feed the other animals too, but the lions are the best. When they're really hungry, I only have to bring the bucket of meat out and they can smell it a mile off."
"Wouldn't it be great to have one as a pet?"
"Ha ha! Here, did I tell you what happened the other day? They ate a tramp."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, this old homeless geezer, pissed out of his skull he was. Anyway, he sees them and god knows why, he climbed the fence."
Their friend Paul arrived. "Alright there!" he said.
"Hi, Paul! Bob was just telling me about this tramp who got eaten at the zoo."
"Yeah, I heard about that," said Paul. "Anyone want a drink?"
"No thanks, we're OK," said Jake.
"So, as I was saying," said Bob. "This old bloke climbs over the fence and the lions just jumped on him."
"Didn't you try and stop them?"
"Well, there wasn't much I could do. There's a tranquilliser gun we keep for emergencies, but by the time I'd have got it, he'd be dead. And I certainly wasn't going to climb in there and help him myself, that's for sure."
"Did he scream much?"
"Oh yes, lots. But the lions finished him off quickly. They're very efficient killers."
"Hey, Bob!" said Paul, who had returned from the bar. "I bet you fifty pound you won't climb into the lion cage."
"What! Don't be stupid! I'm not doing that." Bob frowned at Paul, and they stared at each other like old enemies.
Paul broke off first and laughed. "Are you chicken?" He made chicken noises, and Jake joined in.
"No, I am not. I suppose I could do it."
"When? Tonight?"
"No, better make it tomorrow. Meet me at the zoo at eight o'clock tomorrow night, and I'll show you. But you'd better pay."
"Don't worry, we will."
The following evening, Bob regretted the bet. He knew why he had agreed to it, it was because of that unmistakeable feeling he got whenever he gambled. He could never refuse a challenge, especially one that involved money.
He certainly needed the money. Things hadn't been easy since he had left prison. He was living with his mother, and she nagged him and patronised him like he was still a boy. Bob had told her to go off on a holiday for a short while. "It'll stop you worrying, give you a break!" he had told her. Of course, he liked the idea of being alone in that comfortable house - he needed to give himself a break from her.
The zoo closed its gates, and Bob's friends arrived. Most of the guards had gone home, and he had no trouble sneaking them in. If anyone caught him he would say he was giving a 'private tour' for his friends, which was not unheard of.
"You know Jimmy Knuckles is looking for you, Bob?" said Jake.
"Really? How's his knees?"
"You shouldn't laugh! I saw him down the pub, he's heard you're out. Says if he ever catches sight of you, he's going to make you pay him back his fifteen grand, with interest."
"Well I've done my time, I don't want any trouble off him. Thanks for the warning."
"Just watch out for him, OK."
"Oh shut up! You're worse than my mother. OK, here we are. You got the money?"
"Right here." Paul waved some notes. "Now let's see you climb in."
Bob swung himself up the metal fence with surprising agility for his bulk. In barely seconds he was inside the cage.
He stood as still as he could. Only a few steps away, one lion eyed him lazily, like a playful cat watching a fly.
"They're not doing much, are they?" said Paul. "Have you drugged them?"
"No," said Bob. "They've just eaten, they always sleep after they've eaten."
"Here, pussy, pussy!" Jake began whistling at the big cats.
Bob decided it was time to climb out. He had barely reached the top of the fence when the nearest lion swiped at his legs. Luckily it missed and Bob dropped himself safely onto the ground outside.
"Well, Bob! I'm a little disappointed, but here's your money. You've earned it, you stupid sod!"
"Thank you, Paul. That's very kind of you." Bob counted the money then pocketed it quickly.
"But what I really want to see, is you going in there with a load of hungry lions, not when they've just been fed. Where's the fun in that?"
"Oh no, I'm not doing that. I told you, I'll go in once, but that's it."
"Not even for a thousand pounds?"
Bob's eyes widened greedily for a second. "I said no! God, I'm knackered after that. Who wants a drink?"
"It's your round."
That Friday, it was Bob's pay day. He picked up his wages and strolled out of the zoo to meet his girlfriend Julie for lunch. One man watched him leave, and limped after him until he was on a quiet stretch of road.
"Hello!" said the crippled figure. He was short and crooked, and dressed like some TV detective, with bowler hat and long grey raincoat.
"Oh no, not you," said Bob. He realised the man was dangerous despite his appearance.
"I think you owe me a little something, don't you?"
"Look Jimmy, that was five years ago. I've been in prison, I've been punished enough."
"You think I haven't been punished! Having to hobble round like an old man. I was in a wheelchair for two years, you bastard!"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry! Is that all you've got to say? If you're really sorry, then prove it to me. Give me back my money."
"I haven't got any money."
"Oh! What's that in your pocket then, you filthy liar?" Jimmy reached for the envelope sticking out of Bob's trousers.
"No!" Bob stepped out of the way. "I need that to feed myself. Get off!"
"I will have my revenge one day, Robert," he sneered. "But for now the envelope will do." He pulled out a small antique revolver and pointed it at Bob's knees.
"Take it." Bob flung his wages at him and ran, but Jimmy failed to catch it.
The envelope fell to the ground. Jimmy knelt down to pick it up, and gasped as a sharp pain stabbed his knees. "Curse that bastard!"
Bob cursed his luck too, he had no money to buy Julie lunch. She sulked and spent most of the meal staring vacantly at the cafe bar, twirling her long brown hair round her fingers.
Somehow Bob persuaded her to pay. His excuse was that he was saving up for a special surprise for her, which seemed to cheer her up greatly. So much so that her goodbye kiss was much longer than usual. Bob went back to work with a spring in his step and almost forgot about Jimmy Knuckles.
He considered the thousand pound bet. It wouldn't be that difficult, he thought. He could feed the lions a bit so they wouldn't be too hungry. He could even give the tranquilliser gun to Jake incase things didn't go well.
Having made up his mind, he phoned Paul and Jake right away to tell them. Paul congratulated him repeatedly, but said he would have to round up a few friends to get the money together.
That evening, Bob found himself back at the lion cage. A group of men sat around, some drinking lager, some counting out money. Jake was examining the tranquillising rifle.
"You realise," said Paul, "that if you don't do it, you owe us one hundred and twenty-five pounds each."
"Yes," said Bob. "I'll do it."
The crowd cheered.
"Sshhh!" Bob hissed. "If we get caught, I'm out of a job, and then you all owe me."
"Get on with it!"
"Are you ready, Jake? You know what to do?"
"Awaiting your order to fire, sir!" said Jake.
Bob turned to face the cage. The lions were restless, disturbed by the commotion outside. He crawled up, slowly, and in an instant the animals were below him.
At the top of the fence, he looked down. Three great sets of teeth snarled up at him, growling and roaring. To go further would mean certain death.
"Sorry!" he called down. "I can't do it."
There were sounds of dismay, and a few boos. But Paul calmed the others down, and made them clap when Bob came back down the fence.
"That was very brave of you," he said. "I don't blame you for not going in."
Bob felt a few hands slapping his back, but he knew that those hands were not all friendly. Some had only come along for the easy money.
"Well done, Bob!" said Jake. "You don't have to worry about paying me. It was a stupid bet anyway." A couple of others agreed, but some of them insisted that they were paid.
The discussion was ended by Paul. "I'm sure Bob will pay you in due course. He's not the sort of man you want to hassle about a bet, eh? Now, who's coming down the pub? Bob?"
"No sorry, I have to feed the lions. They're starving. I might come down later."
It hadn't gone as badly as it could have, thought Bob. He was still alive, and only in slightly more debt than he had been before. He had a feeling that years from now, he would look back on this evening and laugh.
He didn't join his friends later, but instead went straight home to have an early night. He was determined to start living cleanly and stop gambling. He wanted to cut down on his drinking too, Julie had made a few comments about his beer belly.
The next day, Julie visited Bob at work. She was smiley and touchy. Bob thought maybe she had been drinking - it was the weekend after all - but it seemed she was expecting a gift. She had the idea that Bob was going to take her on holiday somewhere hot and sunny. "Maybe we can see some real lions," she said.
"There are real lions here!" said Bob.
"No, but they're not hunting deers or giraffes or elephants like they do in the wild."
"Listen, I'm going through a difficult time right now. But I promise, we'll go on holiday soon. OK darling?"
Bob had another visitor that day. He was sweeping the monkey house when he felt a punch on the back of his head. It was Jimmy.
"Ow! You idiot. What do you want?"
"I hear you're quite the lion-tamer. Trying to make money by climbing into a cage for a bet, I never heard of anything so funny. You must be desperate! I'm not that mean, you know. I don't expect you to pay me fifteen thousand pounds right away."
"No?"
"No! But if your stupid friends can rake together a thousand pounds for your bet, then the least they can do is lend you that thousand to help you out of a little difficulty! Isn't that right?"
He grabbed Bob's left little finger and pulled it sharply, twisting it. With a crack it broke. Bob yelped.
"I'll be round at your house tonight, and I expect the money, or else!" He gave Bob a glimpse of his revolver, then marched off.
Bob clutched his injured hand. He looked at the chimpanzee watching through the glass. "What am I going to do, Chi-chi?" he said to the ape.
Bob had more intelligence and initiative than many people appreciated. Certainly, when Jimmy Knuckles entered Bob's flat that night, he was surprised that the door was unlocked but the flat appeared empty. He was thinking that a little burglary would be a good idea, when he was unexpectedly thrown to the ground and felt sharp teeth piercing the back of his neck.
Of course, Bob had taken the lion home as a surprise for Jimmy. He had sneaked it home in the zoo's van and fed it just enough to stop it from attacking him.
He sat locked in the bathroom, listening to Jimmy's dying screams, pleased that his plan had worked. The idea had just struck him that if Jimmy hadn't come, then he might be trapped there for a long time - there was no other way out expect past the lion. But Jimmy was so predictable.
After what seemed like a safe amount of time, Bob opened the door. There was no trace of Jimmy, except a pair of blood-stained shoes on the carpet. Lara the lion was sleeping on the sofa, looking as contented as a well-fed dog.
Bob went to sleep. After tossing and turning for a few hours, he woke up to see Lara sitting by his bed watching him. The sight scared him witless. She was a huge beast, and her eyes gleamed in the dim light.
He crept out of bed, carrying his bedclothes in front of him like a shield. Lara followed him, snarling. Bob didn't dare turn his back on the lion, he decided that if she attacked, he would throw the duvet over her.
He backed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He had some meat from the zoo in there. It was a little cold, but Lara sniffed it keenly. She was sufficiently distracted that Bob could grab his telephone, some fruit and lock himself in the bathroom. He spent the night uncomfortably in the bath. At least if he was trapped he could call for help, he thought.
Bob was awoken in the morning by a phone call from the zoo. It was Bob's day off, but Walter, one of the other keepers, wanted to know if he knew anything about the disappearance of one lion.
"No, I don't know anything," said Bob.
"OK," said Walter. "I thought I'd better enquire. The police have been informed and they may wish to speak to you later. Of course I gave them your address."
"Well, as I said, I don't know anything."
"Of course, Robert. Good day!"
Bob hung up. 'What an annoying sod that Walter is,' he thought. The phone call had woken Lara too, there was a scratching at the bathroom door.
He got up quickly and washed his face. The water refreshed him, but somehow he didn't feel like facing a live lion dressed only in his pyjamas. Realising that there was no meat left in the flat beyond himself, he looked around for a weapon. There was the toilet brush, the toothpaste, some razor blades. He chose a bottle of bleach in the end.
Cautiously Bob unlatched the door and opened it a crack. ROAR! came from outside. Bob decided to leave the lion to cool off for a while.
Shortly he decided to give it another go. It felt like a prison in that room, and he was hungry. When it seemed the lion had gone to sleep, he slid the door open. There was nothing there. He looked out. Still nothing.
Bob could hear the lion in the living room - there was a faint purring. He ran off in the other direction towards the kitchen, still clutching the bleach. But Lara was quicker. She had smelt the change in the air and heard the sound of fleeing prey. Lunch was on her mind.
Bob climbed onto the kitchen sink to reach the window when a growl sounded uncomfortably close. Lara was in the room, and only a table stood between her and Bob.
She jumped onto the table and faced him. There was a short gap between them, but Lara seemed a bit unsure of the distance, or of how she was going to land in the sink.
As she hesitated, Bob aimed the bleach bottle at her and squeezed. The bottle was empty though, only a dribble came from the nozzle.
Looking down, Bob thanked his laziness and reached into the dirty washing up below him. Lara didn't know what a knife was and no doubt assumed Bob was just another chunk of meat. She leapt teeth-first at Bob, but he ducked and she was impaled on his steel claw. She died almost instantly. Her weight fell onto Bob as he crouched in the sink. Her claws scratched his back. For a second Bob wasn't sure whether she was still alive or not.
Then Lara fell to the floor like a stuffed toy, sprawled on the kitchen tiles bleeding heavily. Just as Bob breathed a sigh of relief, the doorbell rang.
"Open up, police!" called a voice.
"Err.. just coming," shouted Bob. He grabbed Lara's body and tried to cram it into a large cupboard opposite the sink. She weighed a lot, and no amount of shoving would fit her in.
The doorbell rang again. Bob moved a table to cover the protruding half of the heavy corpse and placed a tablecloth over it. After quickly wiping up the blood on the floor he took a deep breath and answered the door.
Of course, the police never found the lion. The smell of Bob's flat was too much for them, and they excused themselves after a very brief search.
Bob soon located the source of the smell - a copious amount of dung behind his sofa, but he had other concerns. 'How the hell do I dispose of a dead lion?' he thought. 'And what on earth am I going to eat for lunch? There's no food in the house and I've got no money.'
Bob had answered his own question. For the next week, he didn't leave his flat. He phoned in sick on Monday, and the truth was, he did feel ill. He had a whole lion to get through. But by the time his mother returned on Friday, he had eaten the lot. He felt satisfied - doubly so, because in a sense he had eaten Jimmy Knuckles as well.
The police had been suspicious that Jimmy was reported missing at the same time as the lion. They correctly assumed that their disapperances were somehow connected. But they couldn't explain why neither Jimmy nor the lion were ever seen again.