Parenthood

A Dialogue

(The Tigers' den. Mr Tiger is snoozing contentedly with half a dozen cubs sprawled around him. Enter Mrs Tiger, empty-jawed.)

MRS TIGER
Evening, dear.

MR TIGER (mumbles)
What's new, pussycat?

(Mrs Tiger grunts and settles down close by.)

MR TIGER
Get something good for dinner, then?

MRS TIGER
Not exactly.

MR TIGER (still half asleep)
I could murder a buffalo right now. Nice supple adult meat - much more substantial than the old ones and babies you normally bring home. (Stretches contentedly) You really are a lazy cow sometimes.

MRS TIGER
I haven't been hunting.

MR TIGER
Well, what have you been doing all day then - fishing?

MRS TIGER
Very funny. I was down at the library if you must know.

MR TIGER (waking up in a hurry)
The what?

MRS TIGER
The library. You know - that new UNESCO place about half a mile from here. I was in there all day.

MR TIGER (warily)
Now, darling - I know you were a bit of a man-eater before we got married, but I thought we'd agreed you were going to stop all that. You've got responsibilities now, you know.

MRS TIGER
I know.

MR TIGER
Think what would happen to me and the cubs if you ended up getting shot. (Rolls over contemplatively on his back) Can't imagine how I'd cope.

MRS TIGER
Neither can I.

MR TIGER
And you really should know better than to give the cubs man-meat at their age. All the health warnings in the Jungle Book are against it. You know what they say - first your teeth go, then your mind, and finally you end up a trophy on the wall of some upper-class English twit.

MRS TIGER
I know. Reactionary Victorian baloney.

MR TIGER (not listening)
Still, a good chunk of human's better than nothing, I suppose, if that's the best you could manage. (Alertly) Where is it then?

MRS TIGER
There isn't any.

MR TIGER
There-?

MRS TIGER
Isn't any.

MR TIGER
Isn't any?

MRS TIGER
Isn't any. Buffalo, human, animal, vegetable or mineral -

MR TIGER (shuddering)
God forbid.

MRS TIGER
Not a sausage.

MR TIGER (after a short but agonized pause)
...Not even a book to read while we starve?

MRS TIGER
Don't be silly.

MR TIGER
Well, all right then - what have you been doing all day?

MRS TIGER
Research, obviously.

MR TIGER
Well, obviously. Into what, may I ask?

MRS TIGER
Tigers, of course. I've been saying for ages that the damn Jungle Book's long out of date, haven't I?

MR TIGER (who has not listened to her for ages unless the menu is being discussed)
I suppose so...

MRS TIGER
Well, then. That's why I went to the library. I wanted to avail myself of the latest findings in zoology. I thought it was about time we dragged ourselves into the modern age.

MR TIGER (scratching his empty stomach)
By becoming extinct, you mean?

MRS TIGER
Of course not, you silly tabby.

MR TIGER
Don't call me that!

MRS TIGER
I mean by behaving like real, genuine, twenty-first century tigers, rather than like Rudyard Kipling stereotypes or bloody Winnie-the-Pooh cuddly toys.

MR TIGER
Well, I may be very obtuse, dear, but I fail to see exactly how any of this academic discussion connects with the very important subject we were discussing just a moment ago. (Pauses authoritatively) Namely dinner.

(With the air of doing something immensely significant and revolutionary, Mrs Tiger grabs a cub by the scruff of the neck and plumps it down in front of him. Then she grabs another one, drops it between her own forepaws and bites hard. The cub squeals.)

MR TIGER (absently)
Don't chew the cubs, dear. Leave that to the ruminants. The ruminants chew the cubs and we eat the ruminants, isn't that so? (Tickles the cub in front of him) Daddy's little darling, eh? All those big heavy buffalo, brought down just to protect you. (Sighs) When some people can be bothered to hunt the bloody things, that is...

MRS TIGER
Cud.

MR TIGER
I beg your pardon?

MRS TIGER
The word is cud. Ruminants chew the cud. They do not chew cubs.

MR TIGER
Well, why do we eat the ruminants then, if not to protect our childen?

MRS TIGER
Because they taste good and they're reasonably easy to kill.

MR TIGER
That's all?

MRS TIGER
That's all.

MR TIGER
You mean ruminants aren't - well, evil?

MRS TIGER
No, dear.

MR TIGER
They don't chew cubs ... at all?

MRS TIGER
No, dear.

MR TIGER (pauses a while to digest this)
Well, I must say - buffalo may never taste the same again. (Mrs Tiger bites another chunk out of her cub, which yells once more) I say, could you stop that, please? Just because your hunting was unsuccessful, you don't have to chew out the children.

MRS TIGER (amused) Chewing the kid now, is it? (Does it again.)

MR TIGER
Look, just what is going on here? (The cub between his forepaws starts to try and squirm away; he clouts it) You - sit still!

MRS TIGER
Oh, why can't you just try listening for once, you silly tabby?

MR TIGER
And don't call me that, all right?

MRS TIGER
Sorry dear.

MR TIGER
I know my little problem can be very frustrating for you at times. You're a normal healthy female, after all, and a bit of a tigress too. But there's no need to imply that I've had the ... the operation.

MRS TIGER
All right, dear.

MR TIGER
All right then. What about dinner?

MRS TIGER
It's in front of you.

MR TIGER
In front of - (sees cub) What, this?

MRS TIGER
Full of natural vitamins. Probably healthier than most of the prey around here - and it comes ready caught, delivered straight to your home.

MR TIGER
I'm not eating this!

MRS TIGER (half rising)
You'll eat what's put in front of you.

MR TIGER (somewhat intimidated)
But ... but dearest, this ... this - my own flesh and blood, after all ...

MRS TIGER (munching contentedly)
Makes it all the more digestible.

MR TIGER
It's unnatural, though. It's ... it's incestuous.

MRS TIGER
Oh, rubbish. Male tigers often devour their young. I found that out in the library. It's the most natural thing in the world.

MR TIGER
Well, yes, we do occasionally devour our young, that's true - but not for nourishment, for heaven's sake!

MRS TIGER
Well, what for, then?

MR TIGER (coyly)
Well, it's ... it's a male thing, dear - you know.

MRS TIGER
Well, in that case it's way past time for it all to be brought out in the open and subjected to the rigours of Equal Opportunities. I don't see why I should have to slave away at the hunt when there's a perfectly good source of nourishment staring you in the face - and one that's acceptable to your peculiar standards of masculine pride.

MR TIGER
Oh, don't start that again. Just because I refused to eat that fish you brought home.

MRS TIGER (under her breath)
A real tabby wouldn't have objected for a moment.

MR TIGER
Anyhow, if we eat our offspring you'll still have work to do bearing more.

MRS TIGER
Oh, I never meant we should do it regularly. Just now and then, you know, as a supplement to our regular diet. Give me a bit of a holiday. The book only said to eat cubs often, not make them a staple. How many have we got, anyway?

MR TIGER
Six. (Bone crunches in Mrs Tiger's corner) Well, five and a bit.

MRS TIGER
And next year we'll have another litter, won't we?

MR TIGER (far from certain, but hardly inclined to admit it)
Of course.

MRS TIGER
Well, I don't think three holidays a year is too much to expect, do you? (Eyeing the cub now frozen with terror between her husband's forepaws) Not eating yours, then?

MR TIGER
What? Oh, I suppose so. (Whacks it and digs in; chews thoughtfully for a minute) Bit insubstantial, I think - have to give them buffalo more often. Feed them up. Mature buffalo too - not those half-grown creatures you keep bringing home. They need proper fresh meat at their age, not baby food. (Mrs Tiger snorts and rolls over to sleep) Make sure they eat it all, too - no waste. (Surveying the remaining cubs as they cower at the back of the den) More discipline, that's what you lot need. Don't want you going all flabby and soft! You're tiger cubs! What are you?

CUBS (in tremulous unison)
Tiger cubs!

MR TIGER
Right! Just try and remember that!