The requests for Shane’s resignation, thanks to his weird sexual threesome, continued to pile on.  Of course these were hardcore editorialists, many human, from the top newspapers and magazines in Kenya.  I wondered if they thought of the aftermath being another lion leader in the form of Ralph’s son, Vice President Daniel Lyon.  Needless to say, after Kenya’s recent upheavals humans could always dream of revolution and regaining control of their country from the beasts.  Not all humans were in sympathy with another people fraught government though.  Lion leaders had made great improvements in animal and human lives in Kenya. 

            Shane Simba would read through them each morning as they were put on his desk.  In global news rags, however, Shane Simba was a highly desirable and very charismatic leader and popular among the human governments of the world.  Although he was one to hide his feelings, if possible, I could tell he was bothered by the ongoing blasts from some of the newspapers. 

            He sought Ralph Lyon’s counsel and was told by our former legendary president, “Keep your seat, boy.  The shit hits the fan and gets mopped up eventually.  Sex is no reason to flee the highest post in a nation that has been through turmoil.”

            Inevitably he sought the solace and advice of the one who had probably meant more to him than almost anybody in his life.  When she entered his office at his request of a late afternoon, his face was in shadow.  He was sitting behind his desk, smoking a cigarette and on his third whiskey neat.  He rose to greet her.

“Fifi, thanks so much for coming at such short notice.  I know you have a lot on your plate these days.  Terry is all raves about your professorship,” he said, rising and giving his ex-wife a hug. 

“Shane, you look stressed to the max.  How can I help?” she said, accepting a lit cigarette and drink from him. 

“Betty, I think I am going to throw in the towel and resign from the presidency.”

Her response was swift. 

“Shane Simba, don’t you dare give up this post.  Kenya will be destroyed if you do.  This country has been pulled back together by your work and efforts.  If you leave, it will fall to warring human factions again,” she sputtered. 

“Daniel Lyon is no human, Fifi.  He will take over.”

“Daniel is a nice chap but he is not you.  He doesn’t have your force, brilliance and charisma.”

“He has a happy marriage and great morals though.”

With that said, he gave a short embittered laugh. 

“His father didn’t have morals and Kenya loved him.  Shane you cannot leave.”

“Ralph Lyon didn’t get caught in an interspecies threesome with handcuffs and other toys.”

“There, but for Maurice, Wilda Wildebeest and I, would have gone Ralph.  Ralph Lyon went to so many phony summits in Brazil in the beginning of his presidency.  Willie, Maury and I would protect him from himself whenever possible,” she giggled.  “His room was filled with human beach bunnies every night.  My god, Shane, Ralph even married a dik dik, after a long drawn out affair.”

“You didn’t bring the multiple beach girls out in your biography of him,” he chuckled. 

“Of course not, I adore Ralph Lyon and want to be a protector of his legacy.”

“I’m weary, Fifi.  I think of just going away and spending the money I’ve made, thanks to Lewis Lyon.”

That would be a major cop out.  You just need a rest, darling, you look terribly tired.  I have an idea.  I have a couple of days off from my classes.  My students are studying for finals.  Go with me to Gombe and Lake Tanganyika.  I have to check on my house and relatives there.”

“Sounds like a winner, Fifi.”

“We can ask our sons if they want to join us.”

“What a great idea, Betty.  What would I do without you?”

“Make an ass of yourself,” she said, and burst into laughter.  

             Dickey Simba had hooked into a cyclone when he made the sexual acquaintance of Claire Cheetah that night after seeing her in the bistro’s bar.   Being ignored by Shane Simba, Claire was intent on gaining his sexy-half brother.  She joined the brigade of females that rang his phone each night.  After spending a tender night and morning with Betty Chimpo, he had segued into his bad habit of retreating to his apartment after work, filling his bong with hash, chilling a bottle of white wine and getting totally stoned.  When he had reached a certain level of inebriation, he would answer the female’s call that pleased him the most for an evening of boudoir frolic. 

            After an intense evening of sexual antics with Simone Serval, Dickey came out the next morning to find his car’s window shield bashed in.  A note credited Claire with the crunch job. 

            Sean Simba was cranking along nicely with his new and pregnant bride, Georgy Simba (who conveniently, due to their kinship, didn’t have to change her last name).  Sean was concentrating on his sports career now, to the kudos of coaches Junior and Charley Lyon.  With Sean’s every wish and command honored by the adoring Georgy, what was there to bitch about?  The amiable housemate and mutual cousin, Troy Simba, continued to have beer parties at the home they shared.  When Georgy, due to the fatigue of pregnancy, would vacate the party room for the bedroom she shared with her husband, Sean would grab another comely female on the ass and hit on her – usually with great success. 

Georgy and her hubby, Sean Simba, attend a rock concert...

            Thanks to Georgy’s supportive cousin and new stepmother, Lucy Cougar Simba, her dad, Sloane Simba, was going easy on her.  Although Sloane loathed his nephew and new son-in-law, Lucy had convinced him to go with the flow.  Lucy was now pregnant with Sloane’s litter and the couple was doing wonderfully well.  Sloane even held his nose figuratively and endured a meal with Sean at his dinner table planned by Lucy.  Lucy kept close to her husband and stepped on his foot whenever she felt Sloane was going to verbally bash Sean, whose only area of expertise was football of one sort or another. 

            I seated myself across from Bertram Baboon in OKAPI’S.  We were there for a long overdue lunch together.  I had no sooner picked up my martini and sipped from it than he made a startling statement. 

“Maurice, Shane Simba should step down and you should run for the president of Kenya,” he stated with dramatic emphasis. 

I actually sputtered in shock at this audacious and outrageous idea. 

“Me - President of Kenya?” I yelped, tapping my chest with equal drama.  

“Why not, Maurice, you would be brilliant.  You must know the ropes by now.  You’ve worked for two presidents as their top aide,” he argued. 

“I have no desire to run this country, Bertram.  Politics is not where I want to live.”

I had emptied my martini at this shocker and summoned the waiter for a fresh one. 

“And why not, pray tell?” asked the now miffed Bertram, who being a film director wants no arguments regarding his artistic ideas.  My running for president obviously struck his romantic fancy. 

“I have a personal life and companion that I want to spend time with.  These presidents barely have time to breathe much less have a private moment to themselves and their families.”

Bertram dropped his fork dramatically on the table and raised his brow. 

“It seems to me that our current leader is being asked to step down due to an overabundance of private moments.”

“They weren’t private, Bertram…..that’s sort of my point.”

            The dining table in Betty Chimpo’s small cottage on Lake Tanganyika in Tanzania was alive with invigorating dinner conversation.  Seated there were Betty, Shane Simba, their three sons together, Solly, Jalil and Tarek plus Betty’s aunt and cousin.  It was a strange, rare and wonderful thing for the cubs to get their parents together again in a jolly supper with chat ranging from politics to school studies and on to sports.  Now, rather than the tension of Betty and Shane’s marriage, there was the growing friendship between former mates.  An added touch was the fact that the couple shared a bond that seemed endless. 

            After dinner, as the cubs lounged with Betty’s aunt and cousin, watching satellite television, Betty and Shane wandered hand in hand on the lonely beach where she had first met Jack Tarzan. 

“This is so calming, Fifi, thanks for inviting me here.  I never realized what a serene and lovely place this is,” he said, giving her small hand a slight squeeze. 

“You are always welcome here, darling.  I’m so happy you are relaxing.  I hope you are realizing how awful your idea of resigning was.”

A small man approached them.  He came out of the shadows, probably one of the fishermen who worked this lake for their living and food source. 

“You should not be out at night,” he warned.  “There is a man eating lion in the area.  He comes out at night.”

It was dark and the chap obviously didn’t recognize that Shane Simba was also a lion.  He was looking directly at Betty.

“Thank you for telling us,” she told him.  “We’ll return to the house now.”

They both walked toward Betty’s cottage, laughing about the warning.  That night they shared Betty’s room, making love and having a hot bath together before the others waked up.  

Shane and Betty share her tub in Tanzania....

            Dickey Simba stood in Betty’s library, holding a drink and a cigarette.  He had surprised her with one of his rarer then rare visits. 

“Word in the State House is that you took Shane to your place in Tanzania this weekend,” he said, hoping his gloom wasn’t evident in his remark. 

“Yes, he needed to kick back and relax.  He has been under a lot of pressure lately,” she answered. 

“Betty, are you taking your place again in his life?  I need to know.”

Betty put her hands on her slim hips and faced him.  His back was to a warming fire. 

“Why is this important to you, Dickey?  You, who go in and out of my life like a manic migratory bird, shouldn’t fret about what I’m about.”

“I do, though.  I can’t help myself, Betty.  I seem to care a great deal about what you do and who you see.”

“Then put your fucking money where your mouth is, Dickey.  You can’t have it both ways.  There’s no way you can tie me down and continue this fly by night romantic relationship we have.”

“Do you think Shane Simba is going to do better by you?”

“It’s just none of your damn business what he does to me.”

He retrieved his linen jacket from the sofa back and left the room.  She heard his car engine start in the driveway.  She did nothing to stop him.  The ox was in the ditch.  Either Dickey made some sort of commitment or she couldn’t continue seeing him.  It hurt too badly to have him around, enjoying every moment with him – then suddenly do a disappearing act. 

Dickey Simba pays a rare impromptu call on Betty....

            Realizing the hopelessness of his love for the recently widowed Leah Simba Tarzan, Rory Lion took up again with Cutty Sark who was also seeing the Reverend Calvin Cheetah. 

            Almost as if by chance, Leah was seeking counsel within her church with the new rector, Calvin Cheetah.  Rory was not the only one falling under the spell of the appealing widow.  Calvin looked forward to his afternoon therapy sessions with her.  In the interim, the one that got the goods, so to speak, was her first husband and first love, Ashley Lyon.  He was at her home one evening doing errands that really didn’t need doing.  She was quietly melancholy in front of the fireplace in the kitchen of the home they once shared. 

“Leely, I hate seeing you so sad,” said Ashley. 

He sat beside her on the small fashionable sofa that adorned the room.  Putting his arms around her, he turned her face to his.  That was really all it took for the lonely Leah to connect with the lion that still loved her.  Her children with Jack were in their beds.  Her children with Ashley now had their own digs.  He carried her up the stairs and to the bedroom where they had begun their marriage. 

Ashley Lyon wins the day and bed of his ex-wife, Leah...