Crouching Tiger, Hidden Calvin
By Calvin Potterson
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Calvin and Hobbes, as much as I wish that I did, they belong to Bill Watterson and United Press Syndicate. Read and review please!
Ohboyohboyohboyohboyohboy! It was almost time. He would be here any minute now, any minute. This was what I lived for. Not Calvinball, not the woods, the complete exhilaration of the surprise attack and the pounce. Heeheeheehee. The great thing is, sometimes he tries to trick me and hide. That's when my attack gives me the most pleasure. Outwitting your prey. Of course I don't want to eat him. No, he's my friend, and friends don't eat friends.
However, you can't take the jungle out of the tiger, even if the tiger's out of the jungle. I stare up at the clock, just a few minutes till zero hour. I slink behind the sofa. Perhaps that wouldn't be great cover in the wilds of Asia, but in the great suburban outback... It'll do. I really hope he'll try to hide. Then I'll be the crouching tiger, and he'll be the hidden Calvin.
Slowly, I crawl over to the hall. Nobody can see me, I'm sure. But Calvin has crept up on me before. He actually snuck up behind me because he went through his bedroom window. I made him pay, and I swore to myself I'd never let that happen to me again. Maybe I sound like I hate Calvin, but I really don't. No, I actually enjoy his company, and I really do cherish his friendship. But still, who am I going to attack? His parents? Yeah, right. They don't even believe I exist. Susie Derkins? Nah, even us tigers have a soft spot for pretty girls.
That just leaves Calvin.
Suddenly, my keen tiger senses pick up the sound of running on the pavement. I wonder when he'll ever learn that I can hear that. As I brace for the pounce, I remember to wait until I see Calvin. Once, I was fooled into thinking he was there when he yelled out "I'M HOME!", and didn't open the door. Like a complete novice, I slammed right into the door.
I hear the doorknob began to turn, the door squeaks open. A short, human being with yellow spiked hair, a red and black striped shirt, and black pants walks in. He didn't even bother to hide! He wouldn't even last a nanosecond in the wilds of the jungle. I'm airborne before he even bellows out his usual salutation of "I'M HOME!" Claws extended, I leap on to my prey and he goes with me. He's too surprised to even bother with resisting. We fly of the porch and land with a loud smack on the lawn.
The fight that follows isn't that great of a brawl. Tops a four on a scale of one to ten. He hurls a few insults at me, but I don't care. I'm concentrated on bringing down my prey, nothing more. I'm on fighting mode. Eventually, after what for him was a extremely hard struggle and for me a walk in the park, he gives up. I get up off him, giddy with adrenaline. The stalking and fight is over, it's time to be friends. After all, I miss him when he's at school and this is sorta my greeting for him.
"So," I began, "You wanna play some Calvinball?"