Poor, poor Lafcadio-what do you do when you don't want to be
a hunter-and you don't want to be a lion?
"Look," he said, "I don't want to shoot any lions, and I
certainly don't want to eat up any of you hunters. I don't
want to stay here in the jungle and eat raw rabbits and I
certainly don't want to go back to the city and drink buttermilk.
I don't want to chase my tail, but I don't want to play bridge either.
I guess I don't belong in the hunter's world and I guess I don't
belong in the lion's world. I guess I just don't belong anywhere,"
he said.
And with that he shook his head and he put down his gun
and he picked up his hat and he sniffled a couple of times
and he walked away over the hill, away from the hunters
and away from the lions.
And he walked and walked, and soon from far away
he could hear the sound of the hunters shooting the lions
and he could hear the sound of the lions eating up the hunters.
And he didn't really know where he was going, but
he did know he was going somewhere, because you really
have to go somewhere, don't you?
And he didn't really know what was going to happen to him, but
he did know that something was going to happen, because something
always does, doesn't it?
- excerpt from Lafcadio, The Lion Who Shot Back, by Shel Silverstein