
Out of the Box
By Greg Williams
There were just so many things wrong with the living situation in Kellogg’s Estates. Tony looked at the boxes filling his modest two-story house in the suburbs and could not help but feel depressed. His stripes were ablaze with feeling. His coat was shiny. He would not live here much longer. It wasn’t the just the house that bothered him, it was everything about the neighborhood that had caught his ire. Moving into a place filled with other animal product spokes-creatures seemed like such a good idea when his close friend, the Yuban Coffee Puma, mentioned it to him. Turns out there were new tract houses going up in the Hollywood Hills.
“Tony,” the Puma said, “No Kidding, it will be Grrrreat!.”
Tony hated when people used the Grrrreat line. He had to fight the overwhelming urge to maul them. After all, he was a tiger, and he got enough of that shit at work.
The real estate agent that sold him the house assured Tony that he was not down wind from Colombian Coffee kingpin Juan Valdez’s burro. More bothersome were the late night “dealings” of the Smacks Cereal spokes frog, Dig’em. Then of course there was Geoffrey the Toys R’ Us giraffe. He thought he was a pimp, driving a sleek silver BMW with his head sticking out the sunroof. He would honk at all the young and nubile creatures from the Animal Cracker rooming house and flip down his sunglasses like he was in the “New Kids on the Block.” Sometimes Tony could not help but wish a sudden thunderstorm would arrive in the Southern California hills and use that damn Giraffe as a lightning rod.
Then came the night when Tony lost it. His wife, Kate Tiger, who had said she was at bridge club meeting, didn’t come home. Tony sat at the kitchen table, silently waiting, sipping his delicious Yuban coffee and tapping his claws on the table. Almost as the sun was poking through the darkness, Kate stumbled in. She was drunk and smelled of Fruit Loops.
“Where have you been?” Tony the Tiger asked.
“Oh, um, I’ve been playing bridge.” Kate responded, eyes glassy.
“Well, and I’m just following my nose here, but I would say you were at one of those wild swinger parties thrown by that son of a bitch Toucan Sam!”
“That’s preposterous! P-R-E-P-um-O…” Kate could not finish before plopping down on the table, beak marks on her neck. Tony sighed, thinking that this is what he gets for marrying a trophy animal.
Tony had heard enough. From the deviant Toucan, the pedophile Trix Rabbit and everyone in between. Tony was mad as hell. He let out a great roar, his claws extending out of his paws. Tony looked like the jungle animal he was, ready to maul and kill. But, he was a capitalist animal after all, and, with a rage filled paw, he picked up his phone and called his lawyer.
Tony wanted out. Out of his lease, out of his marriage, out of this damn neighborhood. He saw that bad things happen when these creatures of the jungle get taken from their natural habitats and are given large sums of money and power as cereal spokes-creatures.
As Tony sat with is boxes, he thought to himself that his life was not Grrrrreat. Perhaps the time had come for Frosted Flakes to find a new tiger. He suddenly felt like paper. He was tired, and missed the jungle.