A silver tray laden with sugar cookies coated with every festive color imaginable rested in the grasp of two very capable paws, as the burly lion moved out from the kitchen into the living quarters. Decorations in the form of trees, lights, snowmen, Santa’s and even nativity scenes plastered every inch of wall, shelf and floor space. Such overzealous decorating might’ve come off as gaudy when improperly done, but such was not the case in this particular domain, where everything was tastefully and skillfully displayed.
As Simba admired the decorations as he passed through the hallway, he almost didn’t see the large tiger that happened to be standing in his path.
“Oh!” He exclaimed, stopping just short of slamming into the tiger, and releasing his firm hold on the silver tray. Golden and amber eyes twinkling with a smile suddenly grew wide with what he saw standing before him, and despite managing to keep from smashing into the tiger and dropping the tray before, he did so now out of sudden shock.
Tray, cookies and all fell to the floor with an ear piercing clang of silver striking linoleum, as the lion looked, dumbstruck upon the current state of his tiger.
“What in the hell…” He started to roar in alarm, before Boz held up one meaty palm, and put it gently over the lion’s maw.
“Mmrph Afurgle Durselll?!” Simba growled in a muffled voice, the tiger still holding his paw over his muzzle.
Boz gave him an odd look, brows tightening, before he slowly slid his paw away from the lions mouth “What’d ya say?”
“I said…” Simba began, sputtering and spitting out several orange pieces of fur “What in the hell have you done to yourself?”
Still puzzled, the tiger scratched his head “What do you mean?”
Flustered, Simba raised his muscle ridged arms almost spastically in disbelief to gesticulate his sudden frustration “What do you mean, what do I mean…look at your belly!” He bellowed, jabbing a finger into the tigers now oversized gut.
An almost guilty smile spread across the tigers face in sudden understanding. “Oh…that.”
“Oh, That!” Simba mimicked, stupefied “You didn’t notice that big bulging growth below your chest?”
Boz shook his head dumbly, shrugging his big shoulders “…I thought it was a really big pimple.”
“A really big pimple!” Simba yelled, throwing up his arms in exasperation for the second time “How could you think that was a pimple…that is NOT a pimple!”
“Yea, I kinda gather that now.” Boz admitted, tapping at his lower lip with a thoughtful expression.
“How did this happen!” Simba questioned at last, eyeing the bulbous mound of fat where the tigers stone chiseled abs once resided.
Again Boz scratched his head carefully with thought, green eyes lifting upwards “Mmm…could be all those cookies I’ve been snagging. I didn’t think you’d miss them, they were just leftovers anyway. Y'know, legs, arms…heads n’ stuff, kind of the cling-ons of cookies really.”
Suddenly, from the window their came a flutter of wings, as a bald eagle landed upon the windowsill. Both Boz and Simba turned the birds way, staring at it quizzically.”
“Klingons, did someone say Klingons?” The eagle queried, peering within the room, and looking both ways.
The tiger and lions expressions became even more perplexed, causing the bird to feel awkward, turn around, and take off again.
“Well that was uselessly random.” Simba commented as he turned back to Boz, looking him up and down again. “Well, no cookies for you anymore! You’re going on a diet!”
Saying this with a stern voice, and poking Boz in the gut the tiger grunted with a sincerely worried expression “Well…you said I should dress up as Santa and do something nice for the cubs.”
Simba shook his head, putting his hands on his hips “No…I said you should dress up in a Santa thong, and GET RID of the cubs.” He grumbled, thrusting a finger in the direction of two cubs that just happened to be there, tearing up the living room.
“Woo! Random chaos is fun!” The kids shouted with absolute delight in unison.
“Git outta here!” Simba growled, jerking a thumb over one brawny shoulder towards the exit.
Simba watched as the two cubs departed, turning around once they were gone, only to find the chunky tiger kneeling on the floor, gobbling up what he could of the cookies that’d spilled on the carpet.
“Stop that!” He howled, batting the tiger on the head continually until he ceased his assault on the cookies.
“Ow, Ow, OW!” Boz whined, getting back upon his feet with a grouchy and strained grunt.
“Now, as I was saying, you’re going on a…” Simba paused, watching as Boz began waving his big paws about oddly, the tigers green eyes transfixed upon Simbas’.
“What are you doing?” He asked, looking at the tiger with an arched brow, bewildered.
“I’m using my Jedi mind powers to make you forget about putting me on a diet, and making me some more cookies!” He stated matter of factly, continuing to move his paws and arms about crazily.
“You’re not a Jedi.” Simba responded flatly, crossing his arms and looking positively annoyed.
“Am too!” Boz insisted, bobbing his head up and down and continuing to move his paws “Boz has no need for a diet, you will bake more cookies…these are not the droids you’re looking for!
“Cut it out!” Simba grumbled, batting at the tigers paws.
“But I want my musshies! Six told me I’d be okay to eat several!”
The lions brow arched even further “Six? Six what?”
“Six as in a name silly…it’s a little green hamster that lives in the carpet, and mischievously places Christmas tree ornament hooks all over the floor for you to step on…and tells me to eat cookies.”
Simba just stared “Hm…well that would explain where those keep coming from.”
Boz nodded feverishly “yea-huh, it would, yuppers…”
For a moment the two just stared at one another, several seconds passing.
“You’re still going on a diet.” Simba said.
“Rats.” Boz sulked.