Cookoo Charlie's Animal Alphabet - Jaguar
Jaguar
(For Yo’oko)
Unlike the other restless cats pacing their entrapments, snarling at passersby, the black jaguar stood still, observant. It won’t be long now until she and her cat-kin will be in the spotlight under the big top.
The jungle cat, named Irena by Jamal, the lion-tamer - a big Val Lewton fan, watched as two carnies strolled past. Phillip, one of the carnival clowns, on his way back to his trailer to getting ready for his routine, was talking with Tori, the snake girl. Tori was dressed in a bikini and her four-foot boa constrictor, named Kachina after Alice Cooper’s first snake, was wrapped around her neck, its head slithering between her breasts.
“So we were all in the car,” said Phillip, “and Tommy, that lactose-intolerant motherfucker, who had a large veggie burrito with pepper jack cheese and extra sour cream for lunch, rips one off that would’ve dropped King Kong and made a whole Carlin routine.”
Tori burst out with laughter, Kachina resting now on her arm.
“Sure it’s funny now, but you weren’t stuck in that toxic trap. Pardon the pun, but the boys and I aren’t clowning around. We’ve had it. We’re talking with the boss tonight. Something has to be done or there will be a clown strike.”
Irena watched the two of them, as they made a left past an Elephant Ears stand, disappearing from sight. Irena’s nostrils flared, smelling recently deposited horseshit. She wasn’t sure what curled her nose worse, the equine feces or the crap spewing forth from the humans’ mouths.
Twenty-five minutes later, Irena was released into the arena. In the circus world, a black jaguar was a rarity and a major draw. Therefore, being the star attraction, she was the last of the big cats to make an entrance. As Jamal cracked his whip, Irena charged straight for him. Knocking him down with her sheer strength, Irena bit into Jamal’s skull with his powerful jaws, piercing his brain.
As people ran in to come to the deceased lion tamer’s aid, the audience remained in their seats, morbidly fascinated as viewers at an Indy 500 crash. Such is the nature of humans.
A blast from a firehouse sent Irena sprawling. Holding the hose was Ivan, the strong man, who watched as the deadly cat locked eyes onto him. Ivan was about to hit Irena with another burst, when he suddenly lowered the hose. Something was happening to the cat.
In the time it takes for mashed potatoes to plummet from mouth to chest, claws became nails, fur became hair and an imprisoned feline became…
A wicked looking clown with Alice Cooper eyes, shark-like teeth in his upper jaw, the word MEAT etched in blood on his right cheek and a black widow doo- rag on top of long, curly green hair stood before the circus’s mightiest man. He was wearing a three-quarter length black raincoat, camie pants and black combat boots with a fishing knife hooked to the belt on his right hip.
Raising the hose to waist-level, Ivan squeezed the trigger propelling water directly towards the clown’s chest. “This circus is privately owned, clown. Go back to the hell from which you came.”
For all intents and purposes it appeared as if the clown did just that, for he was no longer there. The water puddled where he once stood.
The clown reappeared in front of Ivan. With cat claws, he tore out Ivan’s throat. Blood gushing, Ivan’s lifeless body hit the floor, hard. Now the audience was screaming and crawling over each other, like ants on ice cream, to exit the big tent.
“I’m Cookoo Charlie, the cannibal clown” stated the killer of two men this evening. “And tonight this circus is coming down. You sick fucks think the exploitation of animals is entertainment? Well I like to be entertained too. And while watching something good, like you, I enjoy a little snack. Me? I love blood and guts.”
Cookoo Charlie plunged his hand into the weightlifter’s stomach and pulled out Ivan’s intestines. Then he ripped off his testicles.
Turning back towards his evacuating audience, Charlie continued, “With a handful of nuts.”
Cookoo Charlie looked right, then left. “Now where’s that snake girl?”
This story is over a year old. Since Cookoo Charlie is a clown, I had been trying to envision a story with him at the circus. One day, this is what came into my head.
Of all the big cats, jaguars are my favorite. Most people aren’t aware that in recent years three jaguars had crossed the border and made it to Arizona. Their names are El’ Jefe, Yo’oko and Sombra. Two nights ago (06-24-18), I found out that someone had killed and skinned Yo’oko. I am still upset and pissed off about it. I do not hate the individual who did this despicable act, I hate and fight against the society and death culture that produces him and his ilk.
For those of you who wish to help save this beautiful and mythical cats, please lend your support at:
Northern Jaguar Project
www.northernjaguarproject.org
Or
Center For Biological Diversity
www.biologicaldiversity.org
