Maurice & Friends

Caroline Cheetah, in the sheer frustration of pregnancy and isolation, fumed and connived. She sensed the utter disgust in her parents regardless of their efforts to envelope her. She wasn’t close to any of her sisters except the distant Cassandra who now lived with her husband, Sefu Simba, in Nairobi. Christine was tight with Chelsea, who took Caroline with a grain of salt having nothing to do with her whenever possible. Naturally, as all the Cheetah offspring adored their parents, contact was to be expected. Dorian and Cynthia tried to keep up a good facade of family togetherness among their dissimilar children. They often held Sunday lunches in their condo and invited all. Clint and Chelsea would arrive, with Clint his usual upbeat self and Chelsea as acerbic as ever. Christine had started inviting Micah Mbube, her lover. They would be joined by Caroline who was usually crying in her beer these days.

Caroline had often phoned Shane’s office to be told by the secretary that she would leave the message. There was never any response. She tried threatening letters to his home and office. They remained without a rejoinder. There was no way that she could approach him physically, he had doubled his guards. She was sitting in the Watering Hole Pub one evening and noticed a new male lion of great appeal.

“Hi, I’m Caroline Cheetah. I don’t believe we’ve met,” she purred.

“Daniel Lyon,” he said, proffering a large paw.

“Is that with the ‘y’?” she asked, her interest sparked.

“Yes, it is. I am the great lion’s son but not by the First Lioness. Caroline Cheetah? That seems to ring a bell but I haven’t been back in the Mara for long.”

“Oh, I haven’t been back all that long myself.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an attorney at Simba Brothers.”

They ate barbecued ribs and then went to Caroline’s cottage and did the sex thing. If Caroline had any thoughts of pinning her already viable pregnancy on Daniel, she was disavowed of that notion when he carefully used his own form of birth control. Daniel Lyon was no fool.

The next day at the law office, Daniel asked Alexander Simba if he knew Caroline Cheetah. Boy did he ever! He pulled the article out of his desk drawer that was contained in the Animal Enquirer. Daniel read it with widening eyes.

“Shit, I slept with her last night,” moaned Daniel.

“She’s already pregnant by my brother,” said Alexander.

“The nice Vice President who brought me here?” asked the surprised Daniel. “I thought he was married.”

“He is.”

Caroline Cheetah finally found a sympathetic ear in an unexpected source – the intoxicated Chris Simba who was bemoaning the fact that his ex-wife, Caroline’s sister, Christine, had scorned his offer of a reunion. They met at the bar in the pub (where else?). Chris was aware of the scandal involving Caroline and his ill-disciplined brother, Shane. They went to Chris’ apartment in Lyon Towers and had a good roll in the hay. After that, they got drunk all over again.

The Simba sisters sat side by side on Sarah Lee’s couch. Sarah Lee had another spell of the blues going on. Leander was smoking her eternal cigarette and drinking her equally perpetual martinis.

“Poor, Betty,” moaned Sarah Lee.

“Just a few weeks ago you hated her. Make up your mind, Sarah Lee.”

“She has to deal with Shane having gotten another female pregnant.”

“Shane needs to keep his willy in his pants or have it removed. He could be castrated so he wouldn’t impregnate everyone.”

“You have sons who are equally dreadful and could get their girlfriends pregnant too,” argued Sarah Lee.

“They use rubbers.”

“How do you know that?” asked Sarah Lee, recoiling.

“They’ve told me about them, Sarah Lee.”

“My boys would never tell me something like that,” grumped the incensed lioness.

“That’s because they don’t use them. They should. In fact you ought to buy Shane a box for his Christmas present. Put it under the tree for him.”

“That is not a fitting gift for the Vice President of Kenya,” stated Sarah Lee with her back held rigid, her head at a proud angle.

“Touché,” laughed her sister.

Daniel Lyon was not to be one to follow the crowd to Mombasa. He loathed water as profoundly as his father. Leah and Ashley invited him to Mombasa. He went along, in his usually cheerful manner, but pleasantly refused boating and water sports invitations. He spent his time in Wally’s Beach Pub casing the females there. Recycling is at its most proficient in a comparatively small society of the privileged. Johanna Delacroix, Shane Simba’s former human squeeze, held court at the beach pub and was there when Daniel approached the bar. He eventually approached her. They spent an afternoon at her home in the old quarter in Mombasa. Daniel left her company in time to buy lobster and crab at a local seafood vendor. He brought them home and he, Leah, Ashley, Luke Leoparde with his girlfriend, Jane, ate contentedly of the abundant supply grilled by Ashley. It was a delightful weekend and Daniel had managed by no means get his feet wet.

Ralph Lyon, on the other hand, was beginning to enjoy his new beach home. There was a very sophisticated concert grand piano where he loved to practice and sing his Sinatra favorites. He also treasured the company of his old and very dear friends, the Cougars and Cheetahs.

“Millie, should I retire from the presidency and make music my career?” he asked the First Lioness, one afternoon after a particularly rousing vocal performance of ‘My Way’.

“Dear, you are awfully good. You can still make my toes curl with your Sinatra songs. I shall leave it up to you about your retirement. You’ll know when you’re ready to give it all up,” she said giving him a kiss to his head and returning to her flower arranging project.

First Lioness, Mildred Lyon of Kenya….

Sloane Simba was getting his very conceited and arrogant toes trod on by no other than Daniel Lyon. Caitlin Cougar refused to give up her dates with him if Sloane happened to call too late. When Sloane had the balls to ask her why she kept seeing him her reply was disquieting.

“He’s so funny and warm, Sloane. You are so intense and heavy,” Caitlin had disclosed.

“Me, heavy?” he had asked in alarm.

“Yes, you are all intensity with your sexual vibes and sarcasm.”

“Caitlin, are you sleeping with this guy?”

“No. He’s not pushing that issue. I think he wants to get to know me instead of just rolling me over in the clover. I am sure you have your sex kittens.”

She had him there. They were in her studio. Clothed in her smock, she was chiseling away at the male lion head.

“Whose head is that, Caitlin? His?” roared Sloane.

“It is any male lion’s head, Sloane,” she answered knowing full well that it was meant to be him.

Sloane couldn’t afford to loose the last of his cool. He had already made an ass of himself. He left, giving a kiss to her lips.

“Remember, I’m picking you up tomorrow night. We’re booked at Croc’s Bar & Grill,” he said in leaving.

“Okay. I’ll look forward to it.”

Caitlin was getting immense pleasure out of this current situation built on Sloane’s jealousy and her satisfaction in the enjoyable Daniel. She knew she was in the cat bird seat for the moment. She also knew that the worm can turn on a dime. She needed to tread carefully. She was still very much in love with Sloane Simba.

A meeting of the Civic Club for the Masai Mara was getting crotchety again. This particular meeting is held annually to decide who will be in charge of Christmas decorations for our business district. Mayor Sylvia Cougar had to bang the gavel so many times that her wrist ached with the effort. As usual, Vonda Vulture wanted to take precedence along with her Aves Civic Guild. Michelle Mamba wanted her snake group to handle the details. This year, Maude Hyena, who owns a frightful home on Lyon Avenue and the McDonald’s franchise, wants her club to head it all. Another who has hit the social set big time is Irma Impala, whose hubby Irving owns the television station. Voices rose in a heated fashion. Finally, one to the back of the room held sway. It was Charlotte Elephanti who trumpeted that her herd would be doing the décor this season. Few argue with the great elephant matriarch. Sylvia was relieved. Others held their tongues. It was decided that Maude Hyena and Irma Impala could head the committee for the annual Christmas Parade. Sylvia slammed the gavel down for the last time. The problems were solved until the following year. Sylvia would not be running for Mayor again. She looked forward to retirement with her husband, former Vice President Bernard Cougar.

Betty traced a red fingernail lightly down her husband’s face. They were lying naked in their bedroom.

“Where did you get those green eyes, Shane? Most lions have amber or gold eyes. They are so beautiful.”

“It could have been some leopard traveling salesman that made his mark on our gene pool,” he laughed.

“I wonder if any of your children will get them,” she sighed.

He leaned over her and saw there were tears welling in her dark eyes. He knew she suffered from the fact that she would never have his children.

“You know, Fifi, I was thinking the other day that both your sons by Sam contain my same DNA. They could just as well end up looking like me as Sam. Sean could end up looking like Sam.”

“I hadn’t thought of that Shane but you’re right, Josh and Jason are Simbas. Oh that makes me so happy. It’s almost as if I have your children.”

“On the other hand they could also look like Roy Lee and end up in films,” he laughed.

“You always know how to make me feel better, darling,” she said, kissing his ear and sticking her tongue there.

“That’s what I’m here for, Fifi. Now, I plan to make you really happy,” he said, turning off the bedside lamp.

“How are you handling the Caroline Cheetah thing, Betts?” asked Wilda Wildebeest who was with Betty on her patio.

“I suppose we have worked through it. It makes sense what Shane told me about it. He was drunk and she looked like his late wife, Catherine. But if it happens again, I will know his old ways have returned, Willie.”

“If it happens again, will you leave him?”

“You know I can’t. I’ve loved him and wanted him too long.”

“Just don’t tell him that, Betts. It wouldn’t be very wise.”

“I know he knows it, full well, Willie.”

Caroline Cheetah was far enough along in her pregnancy to get a sonogram of her litter. The news was music to her ears. She was carrying one cub. Dr. Ted Tigeres couldn’t make out the gender just yet. She hoped it would be a boy. She decided to ensure its health. She enrolled in personal training sessions with Gerald Giraffe at RUNNERS. The pricey trainer was a gift from her parents who owned half of the fitness center. She stopped drinking except for a glass of wine in the evenings. She began to steam veggies in her newly renovated kitchen and buy poultry at the supermarket. She shopped for nursery furniture at the exclusive Lyon Home Furnishings in the Mall.

Bertram Baboon had Gloria Chimpo, Chad Cheetah, Lachlan and me to a very fine dinner at his home. Bertram is proud to a fault of his French chef. Lachlan and I think he may be having an affair with him. He is human and very effete in manner and cast looks of longing at Bertram when he brought forth the Custard L’Orange Flambeau which he had decided that only he could light up in proper style, causing Bertram’s Kikuyu houseboy to fall into a conspicuous sulk.

“Maurice and I want to include all of you in our Christmas plans,” stated Lachlan over cognac in Bertram’s drawing room.

“Have you made them yet?” inquired Bertram after lighting his pipe.

“We thought we’d get ideas from you all. Any ones of special charm you can invoke?” asked Lachlan.

Gloria tapped her cheroot in the ashtray and asked why we didn’t join her, brother, Chico and mother Mavis at her home a few doors down. We decided that might be the thing to do.

“We can go to Mombasa too,” I threw out.

“I think Mombasa is too insubstantial for Christmas. Christmas is more like hearth and home,” said Bertram.

“Roaring fires and splendid grog,” added Chad, the playwright.

“Yes, yes,” enthused Bertram. “You are always waxing poetic, Chad.”

“Chico might want it at his home. He has a chef from Las Vegas. He used to work for Mirage. That should be different,” enthused Gloria.

“This all sounds wonderful,” I joined in, clapping my hands in real enthusiasm.

“I can’t wait,” roared Lachlan.

“What about Betty? Should we ask her?” I asked.

“She’s a Simba again this Christmas. They do their own damn things,” laughed Bertram.