A Tiger Named Shark

A Tiger Named Shark

“Today is April 31st,” Jack exclaimed, while kicking over some rubble.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right,” I said back. We were finishing our descent from Diamond Head and into Waikiki. It was odd not seeing it full of tourists.

“Come on, Mike, didn’t you ever go to Baskin-Robbins?”

“The ice cream place? Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t you remember? Thirty-one flavors…” He stopped to turn to me, as if it had any importance.

“I mean — it was pretty good,” I said.

“To think, before the world went crazy, we could be having thirty-one percent off single scoops of Baskin-Robbins right now.” Jack glanced at an abandoned city bus that read ‘Aloha’, his eyes misting briefly.

“Well, it would have been May — I mean, yeah, I miss ice cream too.” I felt no need to know it all at that moment.

We continued towards the seemingly abandoned city of Waikiki. When we first came to the island as interns from UT Austin, it was a delightful mixture of city and paradise. Then you spend your summer in the Hanauma Bay Nature Reserve just in time for the whole world to become a Volcano of its own.

Jack and I had heard about the invasion of the island, not to mention the evacuations. Just to survive, we stayed in the hills as long as we could. But with the coast seemingly clear, we decided it would be best to try city life for a while. So we moved onward.

“Man, I would kill a small child for some ice cream right now.” Jack painfully let out.

“That's gonna be tough to find my friend, with the power grid blown out. This island might as well be in the Stone Age.”

“How do you know they didn’t have ice cream in the Stone Age?”

“Jack, I’m not entertaining this conversation.”

“Speak of the devil!” Jack yelled.

Through the marine layer, the entrance gate of the Honolulu Zoo came into view. It was missing a ‘Z’, so it read “Honlulu oo”, but we got the message.

“I thought we were talking about ice cream?”

“Precisely!” Jack accelerated his pace into an excited jog towards the entrance.

I stood, only somewhat surprised. Jack often fell into fits of childish fascination, even now.

“Don’t you get it? Zoos have reserve generators, so if there were a power outage, no animals would escape their cages.”

“Why do I sense you don't know what you’re talking about?”

Jack continued, “Therefore, since zoos always have ice cream, there’s a chance they could still be refrigerated.”

“Eh, I don’t know, shouldn’t we find shelter first?”

“It will take fifteen minutes, and we’ll be out before sunset.”

I guess it was because I had sympathy for my friend that I agreed. Also, you've got to have a little fun these days. We hopped the turnstiles and entered the park.

Jack, like a school boy, ran up to the statue of the lion at the entrance and hopped on its back, riding like a bull.

“I am the king of the king of the jungle!”

I found it to be utterly depressing. Abandoned food carts, torn signage, and some birds were fighting over some stale kettle corn.

Nothing was more saddening than the reptile house. Poor, starved creatures in their glass encampments. A king cobra, face down like it had had one too many. The komodo dragon sprawled out like it was trying to sun tan.

We made eyes towards the boa encampment, wrapped around the tree, completely still.

“Some of them you can't tell if they’re alive or dead or if, you know, they’re just doin’ reptile shit…you know, like lying still and shit.” Jack said mysteriously.

I looked at him with severe disappointment, “Can we just go check out the ice cream shop?”

Jack conceded, and we made our way towards the building that read ‘Soft Serve’.

“I wonder if anything survived,” Jack said.

“Something that could provide for itself, or eat something else.”

“Hopefully not soft serve.”

At the booth, Jack pronged himself through the window where the servers would normally be.

He put his ear to the machine, “She breathes.”

He jingled his fingers, lifting one of the cups and placing it under the nozzle. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He looked to the heavens and muttered a quick prayer. His other hand grasped the lever. And he pulled.

“No way,” Jack said.

“No freaking way,” I said.

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

A stream of pearly white vanilla soft serve gracefully twirled into the bottom of his cup. Jack put his face down and licked the ice cream up like it was water in a dry desert.

“IT'S PURE. IT'S PURE.”

I sprang into action and lunged through the window. I picked up my own cup and tasted heaven. I can’t tell you what it was like to be reintroduced to something like that. My limbs trembled, and I fell to the floor in ecstasy.

When I reimagined my stability, we started jumping up and down like we won the World Series.

“This is the most amazing thing!” I screamed in pure joy.

We poured full cups for each other, full cups, and put the little spoons in them and the sprinkles and chocolate chips.

But as Jack went to make another bowl, a descending buzz came about our profound discovery. Jack yelled out ‘No’ as the stream from the nozzle ceased and hung like the end of a shoelace.

He slammed his fist on it, and one last plop of vanilla goodness fell into his second cup.

With his head down, he said, “Rest well, my oasis, rest well.”

We took our cups and made our way out of the eastern entrance of the park. To do so, we passed through the African Savannah. The smell was hardly bearable. Flopped over giraffes and zebras with buzzards and flies milling about don’t pair well with vanilla.

When we came across the elephant, it had a big chunk of its stomach gutted out. Its intestines were all darkened from oxygen exposure and whatnot. We made a beeline for the exit; it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Jack and I hopped the turnstile to leave the zoo. Behind a pillar holding up the ‘Thank You, Please Visit us Again’ sign. A small orange ball of fluff stood out.

We looked at each other in suspicion.

“What the hell is that?”

We got a little closer and closer, and we gasped in near unison.

Staring up at us was a black and orange baby tiger, with innocent green eyes and a shrunken belly. The creature looked so helpless and cute.

“Oh my God, no wayyyyyy,” Jack said like he was approaching a puppy.

The baby tiger squeaked up at him.

Jack put his hand to the cat like one would a dog and slowly grasped the fuzzy tiger and held him to his chest.

“He’s so skinny,” I observed.

“Yes, he isssss oh my lord, my little babyyyyy.” Jack palmed a little bit of his ice cream, and the cat licked it from his palm, leaving the white goodness on his fuzzy snout.

“He just needs a little milk.” Jack, with love in his eyes, said.

We stood there observing the fascinating little guy. It was sort of beautiful in a way.

Jack lifted the baby tiger up above his head and towards the descending sun, “From this day forward, you will go by the name of…Shark.”

“Shark?”

“Yes, Shark. It is a strong name. You will bring me many blessings.” He said like a wise spiritual guide.

“You named the cat after a fish?”

“We are in Hawaii, Michael!”

So Jack, Shark, and I headed to the beach to watch the sun set. The horizon had an odd way of turning this bluish purple color in those days. It was actually pretty nice, I guess every thorn has its rose.

“You know I wasn’t sure I’d ever be happy again,” Jack started, we were sitting on the beach with Shark between us, “But, well, as long as there are a few humans around, and a baby tiger, I guess you just got to be sentimental about some things sometimes.”

I shook my head in agreement as we scraped the bottom of our cups for the last bit of melted ice cream.

The Sun dipped below the horizon, and the world was lit by the unseen star.

That’s when we heard it. It was like a deep gurgle. Something menacing and eager to kill.

We turned our heads slowly in terror, and what was slowly approaching us was a full-grown Sumatran tiger, bearing its teeth under its wild-bloodthirsty eyes. It had blood crusted on the corner of its large mouth.

We slowly rose and backed towards the water.

“I think that might be Shark’s mom,” I said with terror in my voice.

“Cats can’t swim, right?”

“Tigers can!”

Shark bounced over behind his mom, who continued to slowly approach us.

“Mike, I just want to say, it’s been a pleasure surviving with you. When Shark’s mom takes me, I want you to swim and run and hide.”

“Come on now, Jack.”

“I really didn’t think I was going to die like a caveman. If I’m being honest.”

“Jack, that’s not gonna ha—”

My good friend Jack raised his hands in the air, making two peace signs, “Peace on earth and goodwill towards men!” He proceeded to charge Shark’s mom, who gracefully swiped and bit down on his leg, pulling him from the water and further down the beach towards the tree line.

When I came to, I began swimming out and north up the beach.

I must have been crying, laughing, tired, and hysterical. I really don’t know, maybe this whole world was just a bad dream.

When I made it for what seemed far enough. I floated in the water, looking up at the stars. If a bunch of tigers ran the world, would it look all that much better? I don’t know, I think all the radiation from the water was making me dumber than I already am.

I slept on the beach that night, although it's hard to say I really even slept.

In the morning, I made my way towards downtown. I was trying different apartment buildings, maybe one would be unlocked.

I finally found one that would open; I was greatly relieved. When I turned to go in, that's when I heard a soft squeak from something on the floor.

Shark, innocently squatted next to a car tire, looking up at me. His little paws pattered as he approached me, looking up with his watery green eyes.

“You must think I’m an idiot!” I yelled at him.

But I didn’t close the door. I should have. Because I knew that one day Shark would grow up to want to eat me like his Mom, but oddly enough, a voice rang through my head.

You got to be sentimental about some things, sometimes.

I picked him up and patted him on the head, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

I then kissed him on his fuzzy orange head and stated, “You will bring me many blessings!”

The End

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