Each individual strand of hair was coaxed, groomed and styled to the youth’s satisfaction. He examined his reflection in the mirror, gave a crooked grin and turned to go. He didn’t hear them coming in. He didn’t sense the air of menace. His way was blocked by his worst enemies, three College bullies, all brawn and no brain, crew cuts trimmed to within a whisper of their scalps, matching College jackets like a singing trio en route to their next gig. They stood swaggering, hands menacingly placed on hips, hatred and jealousy transforming their countenance into hideous masks.

“Hey, pretty boy, need some more oil for your girlie locks? Maybe we should shear him. What’d you think, boys?”

The young man showed no fear, standing firm and fit to fight but knowing he was useless against inbred hostility. Backed against the wall he braced himself for the inevitable pain and humiliation, no stranger to either.

A figure of ridicule in his high school, he was shunned for his individuality, mocked for his non-conformity, his fashion sense and novel hairstyle jeered at continuously. His birth an unexpected surprise for his parents, born the second twin, the one who survived. Plunged into poverty, his only release was music played on the battered guitar given to him as a Christmas gift. He had asked for a bike. Little did his parents know that the cheapest option would change their lives completely

The bicycle was forgotten as the mysteries of the guitar revealed themselves and music filled the shy young boy’s soul. He thrived on the solid sounds and the rocking rhythm of the Negro spirituals, people like himself who were different and punished for it.

But disappointment continued to dampen the youth’s singing ambition,his every attempt thwarted by ignorant people, once being told to “go back to driving a truck.” But his determination was stronger than the taunts and harsh comments because he sensed a different life awaiting him. These thoughts tumbled through his head as he lay prone on the bathroom floor, suffering the cruel ministrations of the College jocks.

“That’s enough.”

The sweet, sweet voice of the football coach penetrated his pain. He was saved. He heard the angry words of the coach, the slamming of the door, then blessed silence.

“Do you need a hand up, son? Take your time, they’ll not be bothering you again, believe me. C’mon, Elvis, your audience is patiently waiting. Show those goons what you can do, win the talent show!”

And he did! Plus many more as the King of Rock n’ Roll, The Missisipi Flash, The Hillbilly Cat. Despite the fame, fortune and fans Elvis would always remain the shy, country boy loner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lights! Camera! Action! The stage was set, the players in place. Cameras clicked, iphones eyed, mobiles switched to picture mode, ready to capture the monumental movement of the Master. The star surveyed the scene, smiling sweetly, accepting the homage paid to him, as was his due. He was about to undertake a perilous journey, life and limb on the line, personal pride would project him on.

Let the games begin! Gently he was lowered to the ground, feet firmly planted on the wide expanse of floor, safety and support momentarily given by two of his familial fans. Steady now! Don’t rush the moment! Eager anticipation and excitement entered the room, words of encouragement echoing from his ardent admirers. This day was a long time coming and its success would pave the way for future exploits and adventures. Tentatively and with a little trepidation, one foot ventured forth closely followed by its partner. No problem so far, but the stubborn support refused to relinquish their hold. Didn’t they trust him? Beaming brightly at these two precious people, he hoped to assure them of his complete confidence and courage, enough to release their grip. They did so but with worry wedged deep in their hearts and panic pervading their persons.

As the repetitive foot movement propelled the personage forward, a holy hush hooded the house. Bated breath and beating hearts, sweaty palms and frazzled nerves, these symptoms shared by all and sundry. It happened near the halfway mark. A wobble, a stumble, a gasp and groan from the gathering, but our hero held on, stayed straight and tall, a slight scare, that’s all! He laughed to expel their doubts, determination deep in his psyche, success scarce seconds away. Approaching the final few feet he halted, head held high, posture perfect, posing for the perpetual photographs and film footage, proof of his persistence. With a final flourish of footwork and a smile of supreme superiority Jack rested his laurels on the living room couch and accepted the resounding applause from his audience and the standing ovation owed to him.

His proud dad, Jason, scooped his triumphant son onto his shoulders, and executed a lap of honour amidst the people who proferred their praise and rained kisses on his little head. Baby Jack’s first walk unaided, first steps on life’s journey. Karen, his loving Mum, reached out for her child, blinking back tears, heart full of hope and happiness for her boy.

Jack, in the meantime revelled in the adoring attention, bestowing a wave here, a smile there, the gift of a giggle perhaps. He was a star! He might be only a year old but he sure knew how to please a crowd!

 

 

“ADOPT  A TIGER!”

Keeley sat mesmerised by the T.V lady’s words.

“ADOPT A TIGER! LOVE A LION! HUG A HIPPO! CUDDLE A KANGAROO!”

“ Mom, Mom,”  she called from the front room. “can we adopt a tiger.”

Her harassed mother was once again in the process of extricating Keeley’s baby sister from the spin dryer and failed to quite clearly comprehend the little girl’s request.

“What, love, yes, dear, I’m sure that’s fine,” she answered, setting the two year old adventurer on her feet with an exasperated sigh.

“Just ring 22430,”  the T.V lady gaily declared, and press the star button on your phone.”

Keeley puzzled for a little time, then slowly lifted the phone.

 

 

Morning was always busy in the McKenna household and that particular morning was no different. Two small children to dress, although at five years old, Keeley considered herself a big girl now and well able to dress herself and help Mom with Baby Molly, lunches to be made and her parents getting ready for work.

Amidst all this frequently hilarious commotion, the doorbell rang.

Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!

Still slightly sleepy the little girl opened the hall door, stared for a second and rubbed her eyes. She was dreaming, she must be, because there on her doorstep stood a very well dressed, upright striped animal. A tiger! She stood, shocked and silent, her tiny heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest.

“Good Morning, my dear”, the tiger doffed his top hat, bowed from the waist and greeted her, “my sincere appreciation for your invitation. My name is Terence. May I come in.”

Keeley blinked once, twice, blinked again and called over her shoulder,

“Mom, Terence has arrived. Can he come in.”

“Who, Dear?” enquired her stressed Mom, as she tried to clothe the wriggling octopus named Molly.

“My tiger, Mom, I adopted him for today.”

“Oh, yes, Dear, of course. Bring him in.”

Keeley’s Mom smiled proudly. What an imagination that child had, a budding author for sure.

“But what will I do with him,” Keeley worried.

“He’ll wait in your room, Honey. Take him up. Molly, take your tights of your head!”

“O.K .C’mon, Terence. Are you hungry?”

“Well, thank you, my dear. I am a little bit peckish, now you come to mention it. Africa is a long way away and I have not eaten for some time.”

What a very polite tiger and so dapper looking. Top hat, tails, shiny patent shoes and big red bow tie.

He followed the little girl to her room and settled himself, after asking permission, of course, on her bed, whilst Keeley went in search of nourishment for him.

Hmm! Now! What did a tiger eat?

Being very unsure, she settled on frosties with milk and a glass of orange juice, which appeared to be right, because Terence devoured them in a few seconds, licked his lips, stroked his whiskers and burped, “Pardon me”, and smiled sweetly, saying,

“My heartfelt thanks, my dear.”

“Mr. Tigger, Sir. I have to go to school. Will you be alright.” Keeley was reluctant to leave him, not because she didn’t trust him but because she wanted to stay and play.

“Of course, little one, and please continue to call me Terence. I will guard this wonderful establishment with my life awaiting your return,”  and with that promise he promptly lay back on the bed and fell deeply asleep.

“Mom, Terence is going to mind the house until we come back.”

“That’s nice, love, now hurry or you’ll be late for school.”

And so the family departed to their various stations for the day.

 

On their arrival home that evening, they were met at the door by a delicious, mouth watering aroma which seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

“Hmm!” sniffed Mom, “Daddy’s home before us. Super!”

But there was no sign of Daddy, just a beautifully set table on which rested a pot of steaming, scrumptious smelling vegetable stew. Mom was seriously puzzled. Keeley wasn’t.

“Terence made it, Mom. He’s really neat.”

!I’m sure he is , love but Dad must have popped out for something. He shouldn’t be long.”

No amount of persuasion on Keeley’s part would convince her Mom of the chef’s true identify. And so it continued all evening. Terence’s presence was known only to the little girl, no one else saw or heard him. He slept on the floor at the side of her bed, snoring loudly, burping occasionally, and the other noise once or twice. She loved him, kept watching him until her tired little eyes closed over and no sound in the world could keep her from the Land of Nod.

Morning dawned clear and bright, Keeley yawned, stretched and froze! No snuffling, no snoring, no gentle soft roaring, no Terence! Just neatly folded blankets with pillow on top, a miniature fluffy tiger and a handwritten note.

“Your hospitality was greatly appreciated, my sweet friend, but I must go. Another tiny being has adopted me for the day. I leave you my likeness to keep you company. Be good to him until we meet again. Felicitations to all.”

Keeley hugged the little doll, wetting him with her tears, but she knew she would see Terence again. She just knew!