J is for Jaguar
Author: Jelsemium
Dedication: To Jaguar, the Southern Kitty
Rating: T for Potty Mouths
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, not even Frank
Warnings: Um, well, I am trying for humor here, so you might want to put down that drink.
Chapter 4 of 4
They drove over to Buckland in two vehicles. Larry and Megan rode with Don. Charlie went with Amita.
Buckland was an anomaly in the twenty-first century. A large plot of land nestled in the midst of urban development. There was a parking area just outside of the main gate where the two parties met.
"How can your friend afford this?" Don asked.
"His family has owned land here since the 1920's," Charlie said. "He donated a chunk of land to the city for a park, and to make sure developers didn't plant houses right next to Buckland."
"I see," Don said.
Charlie added. "He's also made a lot of good business deals, so he can keep up with his property taxes."
"This is a bit excessive," Larry said. "I mean, I understand the desire for privacy. I'm just not certain why your friend needs quite so much space. Does he have a lot of cars, then?"
Charlie pulled a computer print out from his jacket pocket. "The cars are in what used to be an airplane hanger," he said.
"So, he's got a lot of land around the hanger as well?" Amita asked. "What does he use it for?"
Charlie nodded. "He's got quite a collection," he said absently. "I'll have to show you his topiaries."
"Whoa, Chuck, what a smooth line!" Don razzed.
Charlie blinked at him. He blushed when he got what Don was implying.
"Come on!" Larry said impatiently. "My beauty awaits!"
"Mustn't keep the nice jaguar waiting," Megan said.
Charlie just smiled.
The quintet found the stall that was marked with a red 'J' on Charlie's map. They paused and looked at the grey car curiously.
"Are you sure that this is the right vehicle?" Larry asked. He bounced on the balls of his feet and rubbed his face.
Charlie looked at his print out. "Stall 16," he read. He looked at the car again and then down at his printout. "It's got the right license plate number, too."
"What's wrong?" Megan asked.
"Oh, nothing, really," Larry looked at his printout. "It's just that the description states that my new vehicle is a black Jaguar."
The quartet examined the vehicle in question again.
"I'd call that more of a platinum," Amita said after a few minutes.
"Or plain old silver," Megan agreed.
"I thought you preferred silver," Charlie said.
Larry nodded. "True, I think the silver is a more attractive color. Not that it makes any difference, really." He shook off the color question and walked around his new acquisition, admiring the car's lines. "It's beautiful no matter what color it is." He re-read his e-mail, looked at the car with a frown and then he shook his head.
"Maybe a line got dropped from the description," Charlie suggested, consulting his print out yet again. "Maybe the interior is black."
"Ah," Larry said. "It's true that there is no mention of the interior color." He inserted the key, which turned easily, and opened the door.
The interior was also grey.
The only black part was the cat that was stretched out on the grey upholstery.
It was not a house cat.
Larry gaped as he found himself confronted by 72 inches, 87 pounds of melanistic Panthera Onca.
Chrysoberyl eyes studied him for a moment. Then the eyes slowly disappeared as the ebony cheeks pulled back and triangular ears flattened. The muzzle wrinkled and the upper lip writhed back off its gums, revealing slivers of white.
The white slivers grew into stilettos as the lower jaw dropped.
And dropped.
And dropped.
A long, scarlet tongue uncoiled, allowing Larry an unobstructed view down the long tunnel of feline esophagus.
The yawn ended decisively with a click as the big cat snapped her jaws shut. She blinked at Larry.
Larry took a deep breath and then, very gently shut the door.
He turned around to see Megan holding Don's gun arm.
Don was frowning at Megan.
Megan smiled at Don and released his arm.
Amita leaned against Charlie's shoulder and laughed silently.
Larry glared at Charlie. "You!" Larry said, pointing a trembling hand at the mathematician.
Charlie smirked.
Megan raised an eyebrow.
"She's hand raised and used to people," Charlie said. "Plus she's tethered to the seat."
Don's expression indicated clearly that he was torn between strangling his brother and laughing hysterically. "You little snot!" he finally managed. "I almost..." he clutched his chest as if to indicate a near heart attack.
Charlie shrugged. "What? I told you Frank collected jaguars."
End Notes
Frank Buck was the Steve Irwin of his day. He collected animals from Asia and Africa before World War II and helped popularize the idea of putting animals in zoos rather than killing them for sport. His biography, Bring 'em Back Alive was turned into a documentary film in the thirties and a television series in the eighties. (The film starred Frank as himself; the TV show starred Bruce Boxleitner.)
I would also like to acknowledge Rudyard Kipling's Bagheera as an inspiration for this chapter.