"Gentlemen, a toast!" The tiger proffered a belch and lifted his mug off the bar. "To the females of our lives: for making the heavy burden of life a little bit lighter. For giving us the kinds of manly pleasures that are entitled to chaps like us."

"To the wenches!" said the fox, "for giving us something to laugh about when they go all batty!"

The whole tavern boomed with laughter. "To the wenches!" the tiger roared.

"TO THE WENCHES!" they roared.

"Top it off, barkeep!" said the tiger as he slid the mug across the bar. "Another one for the road!"

With a scowl, the badger took the mug in paw and waddled to the barrels. "Juma, he's had too much."

"No argument there," said the leopard with a sigh.

"You're still lucid. Would you please take these cretins home?"

"Oh, come now, Maurice. Do you really want to miss the scintillating conversation?"

"I want an orderly business. If the rest of Narnia finds out they're here, they'll think it's a place for everybody to come and berate their wives. When that happens, their wives will tell other wives, and those wives will keep their husbands at home."

The leopard didn't answer. He turned back to the group and watched them with a scowl.

"So anyway," said the tiger—"I says to the missus: 'Ya can't go off to university. That's not a place for a woman.' Then she goes all screechy and says, 'What is my place, you bumbling brute?!' And I says, 'Aslan put females on this planet for three reasons. First, to make us feel like men. Second, to bring our lads and lassies into the world. Third, to give us something to eat.' And you know what she does? Nothing. She just stares at me, like I'm the White Bitch rising up out of the ground! And she says, 'I want to learn things! There's a reason Aslan put a brain in my head.' And I says, 'It's because something has to tell your lady parts what to do.'"

"Hear, hear!" said a fox.

"Amen," said a wolf. "Them lady parts are good for something..."

"You all are pigs," said the bartender. "Is there anything you can say about your wives that doesn't smack of disdain?"

"I don't disdain my woman," said the tiger. "I'm just treatin' her the way she's meant to be treated. She does her job, I make her feel like a queen. She doesn't, I berate her out here and in public."

"That's heartless."

"No, you little shite. It's called love. See, we know how women are: emotional, irrational, and loud-mouthed. Someone has to teach them how to be dainty and servile and pleasant to a bloke. That's what Aslan made them for. If we didn't teach them that, we wouldn't be loving them."

"Well said, brother!" said the wolf. "That's the way of the world. Aslan made them to serve us, and us so that we'd put them in their place. If it wasn't for us, our bitches would cut off our bollocks and throw them into a bonfire, and dance around it while they wail at the moon. You know why? Because they don't like it that men rule the world. They don't like being beneath us...hierarchically or physically."

"Amen," said the tiger. "I've said that exact same thing to the missus, and she still doesn't get it. She still gives me all this nonsense about, 'Oh! I want to learn things!'"

"So what do you say to her?" said the fox.

"I says to her, 'Well, I'm not against you learning things, luv. After all...heh, heh…hoo, hoo, ha!...I bought you that cookbook!'"

The whole tavern exploded with laughter as Juma and Maurice glared in disgust.

"A cookbook!" said the fox in a hysterical wheeze. "Brilliant! Ruddy brilliant!"

The tiger swung back to the badger and hollered, "Maurice! Where's my drink?"

"I'm busy, you big load."

"Well, tend to me, by the Lion! I'm still lucid!"

"You listen to me, Shahir. If you all keep this up, I'm going to tell your wives. They're going to leave you so quickly, your heads will spin. And if any of you chunder all over the floor, you're the ones who're going to clean it up."

"I don't like being threatened, you little prig."

"For your information, I am a veteran of the Battle of Beruna. You will address me as Sir Prig."

"You want to pull rank on me?!"

"That's it!" said the badger. "Juma, take him home!"

"Ordering him about in that state?" said the leopard. "I might as well hang my bollocks over a fire."

The tiger made a bubbling sound, and out of his mouth came something between a growl and a belch. "Yours aren't good for anything, anyway. Maurice! Get me another drink!"

"Nothing doing," said the badger. "You're giving this place a bad name, you're speaking nonsense about women, and you're acting like bad Narnians. If Aslan were here, he would be appalled—"

"Just give them what they want," said Juma.

The badger went wide-faced and spun to the leopard. "You're going to stand for this?"

"I'm not standing for anything. I just know how these dunderheads are. Sure, they march into battle and stand guard and act like proper men, but if you think they're bad now, just wait until they're sober. Everything they've said tonight is just a fraction of what they say at work, and the alcohol's the only thing keeping them from making complete asses of themselves at home. And we all know what Aslan has said about the females of our races. Crudities and mockery aside, there is nothing that hasn't been said that isn't straight out of the Lion's mouth. 'Women are weak.' 'Women can't be in battle.' 'Women ought to be at home.' 'Women will find their deliverance in bearing children.' Trust me, Maurice: Their women will be better off knowing the men are here for the night." The leopard paused. "Come to think of it, so will the men—"

Juma was cut off by a bubbling gurgle and a fount of half-digested food gushing out of the tiger's maw. The whole bar went silent, then cheered like spectators at an arena.

Maurice turned to Juma with an even duller look than before. "It may be good for them, but it's not good for me."

Juma sighed and loped off the bar stool. "Get some towels, mate. I'll help you clean this up."