Timon stood at the edge of the local watering hole, staring down into his rippling reflection at the weak, but still handsome, meerkat before him. He'd flex his stringy arms and pose, then sigh and slump, looking defeated.
"I'm tellin' ya Pumbaa, there's one thing we lack..."
Pumbaa sat under a tree, having freshly gorged himself, and with a healthy belch, replied "Uhhh...what's that Timon?"
"Respect!"
"Respect?" the warthog belched confusedly
"That's right, why, look at us...we've been around the savannah more times than half these mooks!" Timon jerked his thumb behind him, pointing out several other animals that were cooling their throats with a drink. "But lookit us, they wouldn't bat a tail at us...we're nobodies!"
"Oh..." Pumbaa grunted. "I dunno Timon...do we really NEED respect? I think all we really need is food!"
"Exactly!" Timon raised his hands in exclaimation, hopping on his fat friend's belly and prodding his wet snout. "Respect would get us food! It would get us ANYTHING we want!"
"A...Anything?" Pumbaa's mind began grinding away at the possibilities, perhaps Timon was on to something? "Buuut, how do we GET respect Timon?"
Timon looked taken aback, he hadn't thought this out. "Well...well for one, you gotta be in charge! And to be in charge...you gotta be the biggest, the best...the STRONGEST!" He again attempted a flex, only a weak whisp of fur appeared on his arms, blowing in the wind. "I think it's about time I change my physique..." Timon stroked his chin, his sneaky mind clicking away.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.13 seconds at 2:53am on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.