The King of The Jungle

“Come on in baby. We’re jus waitin for some love,” said the man in the ticket booth. Except, he wasn’t a man. Or a woman. It was more of a reptile – dark green skin, scaled and rough like sand paper.

It stood and crossed the booth to make change for our tickets, his enormous tail swinging back and forth making his white, sequined jump-suit ripple and glimmer in the incandescent light. It was fascinating to watch; a miracle of modern genetics.

Blue Suede Shoes blasted from the big tent. The crowd screamed. Loud and piercing, the music was drowned out by the hoots and hollers from the audience. It was either a bloody massacre or an amazing show. Maybe both.

“Sounds like they havin’ a great time; You ready?” it said, flashing a hideous smile filled with razor-sharp teeth.

“Yes sir,” I said, a little too politely.

“Good! Everyone remember the first time they see Dinosaur Elvis. T-rex performin’ t’night. He do an amazin’ Heartbreak Hotel!” it said, waving us into the tent. “Watch out for the blood.”

View this story's 3 comments.