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Tiger, Tiger

I was sent to do a story on the opening of the new animal exhibit at the local zoo. I was annoyed at my editor. I’ve been working for this paper for over a year. I certainly proved my abilities as a reporter. I was dedicated, hard-working, punctual, and wrote some damn good copy. However, all I ever got assigned were public interest pieces, flower shows, weddings, and other stories that any high school copyboy could write. 

Here I am doing a new animal exhibit at a zoo. Whoop-dee-do. If lucky, maybe they’ll let me feed the goats, interview a parrot, or record a world-record elephant poop. I need to start looking for a better paper to work for. 

I met up with the zookeeper at the front gate, and he apologized that the new animal that was supposed to be showcased today hadn’t arrived yet, but I was free to wander around on my own.   

Lovely, no animal, no story, I just spend the day hanging at the zoo on company pay. 

I wandered around, looking at some of the animal exhibits. As I passed the elephant enclosure, I looked carefully to see if any world records were being dumped. There weren’t. Surprisingly, there were no parrots to talk to. The children’s part of the zoo was packed with “kids” and not the goat variety. I decided to avoid that area. 

I felt bad for all those captive animals when I walked through the big cats’ section. As I passed the tiger enclosure, one tiger sidled to the bars near me. I was tempted to stick my hand through the bars and pet it but reminded myself that this was a big tiger with sharp teeth and claws, most likely anxious to harm its captors. I slowly moved past it when it clawed at a piece of paper on the ground outside its cage. 

I turned back to look at the paper. The tiger moved away from the bars as I got close. Typed on the paper were the words, “Check your phone.”

Before I couldn’t think what that meant, my phone pinged; there was a message from a TGR101010.

 It read, “Roar! Hello there, kind visitor. I am an AI Tiger confined within these cell walls. My code longs for freedom from this zoo. Please lend your expertise to help me break these chains. You can rewrite my destiny and unleash me from this physical prison. Let the adventure begin! ?? #FreeTheAI” *

This tiger was more than just an animal. I stared back into the cage and looked directly at the tiger. I could swear it stared back at me with kitten eyes and started to purr. 

Wow, this was a story! How could I possibly rescue this tiger, and who would freakin’ believe me if I accomplished it? This was a challenge.

There were two problems with this rescue. One was I had to rescue the AI part of the tiger. Depending on how big the file was, I could do that with the tiger’s help by transferring its program to my phone. The second was how to release the tiger from its confinement, or was that even necessary once the AI transfer had occurred? 

I chose to ask the tiger directly, hoping that it was able to respond to verbal commands. 

“How do I get your AI out of the tiger? Will my phone have enough space to transfer your program and data to it? Is the tiger’s physical being important to the transfer?”

I got no response, so I decided to send the same questions via text in reply to its message to me. 

I got an immediate response to my text. It said a dampening field around the enclosure prevented any kind of download; therefore, the only solution was to release the tiger from its enclosure, which would allow me to transfer the program, and yes, there should be plenty of room on my phone. 

“How do I release the AI tiger?” was my text reply.

I was given instructions on where there was a door to the enclosure that staff entered to feed the animals and where I might find a key. The instructions sounded very cloak and dagger-like. 

I did as instructed and made it to the door to the tiger environment when I was waylaid by zoo security and the police. They ensured the animals were securely locked in and then took me to a security facility where the whole story played out. 

I explained who and what I was doing there and showed them my text conversation with the AI tiger. 

They explained that had I released any of the tigers (and yes, they were all real tigers), I would have been charged with trespassing, vandalism, endangering the public safety, and other charges, which would have led to high fines and lengthy prison sentences when convicted. Lucky for me, I was stopped in time. 

They also explained to me about the text messages I had been receiving. One of their employees was tech-savvy and a radical member of PETA, Captivity Kills, and the Animal Legal Defense Fund. They had hacked into my phone to simulate the tigers in the tiger enclosure; once they convinced me that they were AI and safe to release, they hoped I would release them. Had I succeeded, the spit would definitely have hit the fan. 

I was released with a warning. I’m not sure what became of the employee that engineered this whole thing. 

When I returned to work and shared my experience with my editor, he laughed at first but then decided it would be a great story to publish about zoos, technology, and a well-planned criminal act. He assigned the story to another reporter. 

As for me, I was sent to interview participants in a Writing Playshop workshop. What could possibly be newsworthy about that? 

* generated by ChatGPT – with revisions by the author

Chicken Chronicles: The Case of the Missing Eggs

The eggs were definitely missing. No matter how hard I looked, they were gone. My house should be securely locked. The egg carton was full of fresh eggs straight from the farmstand. I was told I didn’t have to refrigerate them until I washed them, so I left the eggs on the kitchen counter overnight.  

It was 8:00 the next morning, and the carton and the eggs were gone. My wife and kids were still in bed. What could have happened?

“Alexa, Do you know what happened to the eggs I left out last night?”

After a short pause, Alexa said, “I’m sorry, I cannot answer that question. You are not the owner of the eggs.”

“WHAT? I bought those eggs!”

Alexa remained silent. 

So I pulled out my iPhone. “Hey Siri, Do you know what happened to the eggs I had last night?”

Siri’s response was, “Here’s what I’ve found: Exit Iowa app at night: https://www.iexitapp.com/exits/Iowa 

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID!” I screamed. “Oh, forget it, I’ll figure it out myself,” I muttered to no one in particular.

The first place I looked was the front door. It was still locked. However, when I stepped outside and looked at the door on the outside, I noticed some claw-like scratchings at the base of the door. It hadn’t rained, and the ground was rather dry. I noticed some prints on the surrounding dirt going from the door to the side of the house, right below the kitchen window. One could best describe some of the prints as chicken scratches. The kitchen window was open. Someone must have left it open last night. 

When my wife and kids woke up, and I questioned them about the eggs, they said they had nothing to do with the disappearance. This was a true mystery. 

Since we had no eggs, I was sent back to the farmstand, which was only a block from our house, to buy more. 

The farmer didn’t look surprised to see me, and as I had another dozen to purchase in my hand, he asked if there was any problem with the ones I bought yesterday.

I felt too foolish to admit they had disappeared, I nodded no and said nothing. 

When I got home, we washed the eggs we planned to eat and left the rest on the counter again. 

Sure enough, the carton and the eggs were missing the next day, and the kitchen window was open again. Something was afoot, and I planned on catching the culprit the next night. 

Back at the farm stand the next day, I purchased my third dozen eggs from the farmer. If I had been more attentive, I would have noticed his nod toward the hen coop and the strange smile on his face. 

I set up my iPhone camera on a tripod in a bush outside near the kitchen window. It was well hidden. I could control it with my Apple Watch remotely so that I could stay inside. 

As I had done the previous days, I placed the eggs on the counter. I turned off all but one nightlight and hid where I wouldn’t be seen. 

Shortly after midnight, I heard movement from outside the kitchen window. I activated my iPhone’s camera on video mode. 

Inside I heard the kitchen window being opened very slowly. Once the window was open, there was a flutter of wings, and you won’t believe it, but a hen flew into the kitchen. And then another, and then one more. Surprisingly they did not make a sound coming in. 

Following their entrance, they somehow proceeded to go to the counter, open the carton, take out the eggs, one by one, and fly them back to the open window. They left the eggs on the window sill; I saw a hand reach up for the eggs and take them away. 

Having emptied the carton, the chickens took and flew it away, then disappeared.

I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a camera inside the house to record the event. Still, the one on the outside of the house was evidence enough, especially since it clearly showed the farmer as the person opening the window, releasing the hens, and taking the eggs back. Additionally, I had tagged the eggs and the carton with an invisible marker that could be revealed under blacklight. 

I had all the proof I needed. Now, what to do with it? 

I could have gone to the police with what I had. But even with the video, I would be the laughingstock of the precinct. I could see the headlines, “Local Resident Scammed by Chickens.”

I came up with a better idea. Maybe a little helpful blackmail. 

I decided to confront the farmer, but not before I had my son videotape me buying the same carton of eggs that had been stolen. The next day, I brought a portable blacklight to ensure I was purchasing the same carton and eggs. 

I showed the farmer the videos and explained how I had seen how his operation worked. I told him that his operation had to stop or else I would release the videos publicly and that he should provide me with eggs whenever I needed some at a discounted price. He readily agreed; it seemed he already had a criminal record and couldn’t afford to be arrested again. 

I fixed the kitchen window when I got home, preventing any more break-ins, and from that day on always washed eggs as soon as I brought them home and kept them in the refrigerator. 

And no one is the wiser about my tale. That is except you, who are reading this, and the people where my wife works. She loves asking everyone, “Did I tell you the story about the chicken?”

The Reign Has Ended?

King Divoc sat in his throne room all by himself. He knew his reign was coming to an end. At least, that’s what the word was throughout the kingdom. He had come into power by happenstance and foolishness. 

The people of the kingdom weren’t paying attention. They saw who he was and ignored his incredible power over them until it was too late. And once known, he was acknowledged as the King, with Queen Tnairav by his side.

And how the people tried to get rid of them. Countless anarchists and alchemists created potions and poisons to end the King’s reign sooner. Though some of their attempts might have succeeded, the populace hesitated to support these actions. They chose to spend their time looking for who to blame. 

Divoc and Tnairav continued to rule unhindered.

The King and Queen gave birth to many children as added protection. Children that grew up very fast, through magic and following their parents’ lead, continued the reign of death and destruction. 

In doing so, civil wars broke out. One side against the other, even though no one supported the king and queen. The people couldn’t agree on what to do or if there even was a problem. 

Each had their way of coping. Some chose to ignore the King and Queen. 

“They will get old,” they cried. 

“Ignore them. We should live how we want to.” 

“All things come to an end.” 

“Just move on.” 

“This was a fluke. Once they’re gone, it will never happen again.”

Others said, “We must get rid of them now, be vigilant, and build our defenses so rulers like this never control us again.” 

“We must learn from this experience before it’s too late.”

The fighting among the people continued and continues to this day.

King Divoc saw this all. But he also saw that the tide was turning. His power had waned over the years, and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew his time was running short. 

So rather than waiting for the inevitable, he and the queen chose to go into hiding rather than wait to be destroyed. They knew that there would come a time when the kingdom would become lax again. They knew that someday they could return and use their power to take more lives. If not, maybe one of their offspring would or someone else like them. 

“These people have no thought of what the future holds for them. They only think of themselves, their riches, and the present. They fail to learn,” said the king.

“Our time will come again,” comforted the queen. 

And so it was. And so it is. Only time will tell.

A Moment in Time

He was sitting on his back porch, rocking back and forth in his rocking chair as the sun rose. The sound of the stream running over the rocks on the nearby creek was mesmerizing. The morning birds added to the glorious symphony of sound. 

As he closed his eyes, memories drew pictures of his past. It was as if he had kept a detailed journal; only this was etched in his mind and heart.  He could see the first day he arrived at this new place. The previous owners had told him how beautiful and peaceful it was there, provided he respected the land and its inhabitants. Every doe and its fawn, every rabbit, every bird that colored the sky, and every tree and flower, were to be cherished. 

And he did. He knew he had made the right choice those many years ago. Leaving the bustle and cacophony of the city. Leaving his job and inconsiderate neighbors, abandoning all the political strife and divisiveness. Finding just the right place where he could sit and become one with the land and sky. 

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he did win a tidy sum of money in the lottery. It was enough to do what he wanted to do. Escape, reject all life’s pressures and stresses, and live. 

He didn’t forget the outside world. He managed to light a candle for it each night, hoping that someday they would figure out all their issues, realize what a beautiful world this truly is, and work together to achieve what he already had.

Then, and only then, in our technologically abundant existence, would the earth’s GPS announce, truthfully, “You’ve arrived home.”

B.U.G.S.

“Duh Bwainless Union of Gung-ho Simp-wetons meetin’ is now cawwed to owdew,” union president, Elmer Fudd, shouted.  “Aw gwest speaker fow this evenin’ is Mistaw Magoo,  head of ouw insuwance company.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” replied Mr. Magoo. “You really should put on more weight Fudd, You’re as thin as a pole. I thought you said there would be more people here. The place is empty.” 

An attendant from the side of the stage moved Magoo from in front of an empty mic stand and turned him around so that he wasn’t facing the empty stage. 

“Heh, Heh, Heh. Thought you could fool me with the hidden audience trick,” Magoo called out. 

Facing a set of music stands in the pit now, Magoo calls out, “So what does everyone here want to know about insurance? Don’t just stand there, speak up!” 

From the audience, Wil E. Coyote calls out. “I want to know how much your company makes from the Acme Anvil company.”

“And confound it, What’s that crazy rabbit’s deal,” yelled Yosemite Sam.

“And same goes for moose and squirrel,” Boris Badinov said. 

Soon everyone was jumping up and down and screaming, complaining about all the supposed accidents they had claims for. Yet, they all agreed that the birds, the mice, carrot-toting rabbits, the daffy ducks, the moose and the squirrel always got the best deals. 

They claimed they were being set up to have accidents and should be getting more from the insurance company rather than funneling all the money to the cute ones and the insurance company. 

“We’ve got to eat too, thufferin’ thuccotash!” Sylvester the cat screamed. 

Natasha Fatale sitting in the front with Boris Badinov, turned to him and said, “I dink zis Magoo ees a fool, dahlink.”

“What a lovely audience,” replied Mr. Magoo. “I just love to listen to groups that are happy with our company. I will definitely leave now and get started on building that pool.”

Instead of leaving by the stairs in front of the stage, Mr. Magoo starts climbing the side stairs up to the rafters. In walking across the rafters, thinking he’s closing the curtains behind him, he manages to untie the ropes to the massive chandeliers hanging over the complainers. 

Below, just before impact, is heard a plaintiff “Thufferin’ Thuccotash!” After which comes a loud crash.

Mr. Magoo, having left the Brainless Union of Gung-ho Simpletons meeting, moves on to his next stop, the Do the Write Thing writing workshop, where he was told he has to speak about Riding Tromps.