A Tiger’s Gotta Do What a Tiger’s Gotta Do

Roving rodent reporter Zoey and photographer Zeek have been summoned by the kind (but very carnivorous) Bengal tiger, who is seeking some journalistic assistance to bolster the dwindling ranks of Panthera tigris tigris. But the duo is completely unprepared for the tiger’s ultimate request.

(A rumbling, ominous sound emerges from the cover of the tall elephant grass) ROARRRR! (Crunch, crunch, crackle, crunch) ROARRRR! (Crunch, crunch, crackle, crunch)

(Zeek shudders, whimpers, and tries to make a break for it.)

Zoey: Zeek! Where are you going?

Zeek: Did you hear that?

Zoey: Yes, I heard that…but we can’t back out now.

Zeek: Maybe you can’t, but I CAN.

(Zeek turns to run.)

Zoey: (Grabbing him) Zeek, stop! We promised Bartholomew we’d do a story for him.

ROARRR! ROARRR! (Sounds of twigs snapping; heavy footfalls getting closer)

Zeek: AAAAGGHHH! I’M OUTAHERE!

Zoey: STOP! If we leave now, we’ll hurt poor Bart’s feelings.

Zeek: Hurt his feelings? (Does a double-take) And since when do you call him Bart? Are you insane? He’s a Bengal tiger, for goodness’ sake. Tigers don’t have feelings, ya know, they have snapping jaws of death and teeth strong enough to bite through a plank of wood!

ROARRR! ROARRR!

(A large, striped head pokes through the wall of grass.)

Bartholomew: (In a gentle, aristocratic voice) Oh…hello. I’m Bartholomew, but please call me Bart. You must be the representatives from the newspaper. So pleased to meet you. (He extends a large paw.)

Zoey: (Shaking his paw) Hello, Bart!! See, Zeek, I told you we could call him Bart!

Zeek: (Meekly, decidedly avoiding Bart’s paw) Uh, hi…happy to be here…I guess.

Bart: I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your bravery in taking on this story. This is a tale, although riddled with danger, which must be told to ensure the perpetuation of future generations of Bengal tigers.

Zeek: Perpet…huh? And whaddya mean, bravery? Why do we need to be brave? I’m not big on the whole “bravery” thing. Doesn’t work for me.

Zoey: (Muttering under her breath) Zeek, be quiet!

Bart: My dear Zeek and Zoey, as you may know, our numbers have been dwindling over the past decades, and I feel compelled to take a stand and do my part to arrest the decline of my most regal brethren.

Zoey: What do mean? Are Bengal tigers in danger of extinction?

Bart: Well, we are considered an endangered species, and if we don’t put a stop to the poachers.... You see, Bengal tigers are also known as Royal Bengal tigers. We have been the national emblem of India for centuries. Can you imagine the travesty, the outrage, if we were to no longer able to represent our native country? It would be just awful…. (He gets choked up.)

Zeek: Whoa, dude. That seriously bites.

(Zoey elbows him.)

Bart: (Sniffling) Thank you, Zeek, my good man, thank you. I knew I could count on you. It is my understanding that you and Zoey are quite respected journalists.

Zoey: Well, we do interview a lot of animals here in the zoo. And I love to write!

Zeek: I won “Shortest Photographer of the Year” last year!

Bart: Well done, man! I can see I made an outstanding choice, then. Through your beautiful photography, Zeek, and your editorial prowess, Zoey, I am confident that you two will broadcast my message to the rest of the world and secure the Bengal tiger’s stature, greatness, and legacy as a national emblem!

Zoey: Zeek, we have to help. Bart is depending on us!

Zeek: (Dramatically) Sir, your wish is our command! We’ll do anything! Anything at all! (Whispering) Zoey, let’s make a break while we can!

Bart: Outstanding, my good man! In order for this journalistic effort to have full impact, you’ll need to write a scintillating story and snap a fetching photo of yours truly! You’ll need to capture my valor, my strength, my masculinity, my piercing hazel eyes, my winsome whiskers, and….

Zeek: ...and…?

Bart: (Adopting a swagger) And help me land a hottie!

Zoey: A what?

Bart: A hottie. A babe. A tender, young tigress. A fragrant female. (Emphatically) I want you to get me a date.

Zoey: (Embarrassed) Oh. Well. Hmmm.

Zeek: Dude!

Bart: Now, don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not that I can’t get a date by myself, you know. Why, it’s quite the opposite, most of the time I have to beat them off with a stick! At one point I even considered hiring Artie the African buffalo as a bodyguard. But, well, I’ve been awfully busy lately, not getting out much. You know how it is.

Zeek: Oh, I do. I know all too well.

Bart: (Hopefully) So do you think you’ll be able to help me?

Zoey: Gee, we’d really like to, but I just think tiger matchmaking should be left to the professionals.

Bart: (Resigned) That’s all right, I understand. So sorry to have overburdened you. I’ll put a call in to Oprah. (He starts to head back into tall grass.)

Zeek: No, wait. You’re a fellow bachelor in need, we can’t let you down. And better us than Oprah—we’ll do it!

Zoey: (Uncertain) Uh…right! We’ll do…something. Zeek, get your camera. Try to capture Bart’s good side.

Zeek: Good side? All I see are teeth.

Zoey: Zeek!

Zeek: Alright, alright.

(Bart strikes a manly (tigerly?) pose as Zeek snaps pictures.)

Zoey: Hmmm, I never wrote a personals ad before. Here goes. (Composing) “Bartholomew, an eligible Bengal tiger with a centuries-long royal pedigree, wants to know: Is there a tigress in the audience who is ready for love? A pulchritudinous Panthera tigris not afraid of commitment?” Something tells me I won’t be winning the Pulitzer for this one….