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The lion stood fidgeting nervously. His mane felt a little too scratchy, and his tail swished with the agitated flick of a distracted kitty. It was this place, of course...

As he waited with rapidly increasing impatience, he tried to distract himself by reading the materials at the counter. It didn't help; in fact it made it worse.

Etica..it's Italian for ethical.

Well that's a fucking relief...I would not have been able to get through the fucking day without that...

Etica, your fairtrade, locavore alternative. A place of refuge from the corporate world of food...

Please...no more buzzword bingo

"Next please!"

Mercifully he stepped up to the counter, before the second paragraph of the long-winded notice on the counter about ethical harvesting of rutabagas pushed him over the edge. He was close enough as it was.

His eyes scanned the menu, and something inside him began to crack.

"What can we get you brah?"

He ground his incisors, biting back the withering retort he so wanted to give.

"We have a special today...a quinoa and goji berry salad with kale and activated almonds..."

"Actually, what I want is...a burger..." the word was the deed. He really, really wanted that burger. His whole body ached for it.

The stupid fucking ram on the counter brightened noticeably. "Oh, wonderful choice. We have an awesome tofu burger with artisanal sourdough buns..."

The lion growled, in spite of himself, and held up one pained paw. "No...no...please, no..."

"Then...?" The ram looked genuinely lost.

"I want a burger. A real burger, beef, preferably medium rare with some serious slices of processed cheddar and mustard and..."

"Is there a problem?" The ram had been joined by a dopey looking bull with mutton chop whiskers and his headfur in a bun. The lion whimpered reflexively at the sight.

"No problem, I just want a real, old fashioned burger..."

"Brah, please, this is...not that kind of place..."

"And you know what else?" the lion was in full flight now, and his stomach had taken flight along with his mind. "I want chips!"

"We have nice parsnip chips with a garlic aioli and..."

"I want potato, twice cooked, and fried in duck fat..."

There was an audible gasp from the room. All eyes were now focussed on the little drama. One deer sporting a pair of black rimmed glasses and holding a fixie bike in his sweaty hands managed to look outraged and yet hungry at the same time.

"Dude...not cool brah...not cool..."

The bull was looking smug now, as he pointed to a fifteen page screed beside the counter. The lion had been unwilling to plunge into it's depths, but clearly it mattered somehow.

"Brah...you will see our principles outlined here in this manifesto..."

"Oh for fuck sake!" The lion shot it out with a sense of infinite suffering. The vein on the side of his left temple began to throb again. It was not a good sign.

"...and it clearly states everything you need to know. We are dedicated to providing a safe, ethical space for herbivores to enjoy nutritious, locavore artisanal foodstuffs in a socially responsible..."

"Fuck it! Fuck it all! Fuck food miles, fuck free range, fuck fairtrade, fuck foraged whatever, and most of all fuck all you grass munching losers! I don't care if my cow lived happily on a Buddhist retreat in fucking Timbuctu, I just want a fucking burger and some chips. Is that too much to fucking ask?"

The bull had finally resorted to frowning, and crossed his arms with finality.

"Sir..." the contempt was obvious "If you keep this up, I am going to have to call the police. This is supposed to be a herbisafe zone..."

The lion was on a roll now. It tasted almost as good as the burger would have.

"Police? Call the police? I am the fucking police, dipshit! I have been on duty for fourteen straight hours, and I want some decent fucking food, and the only place open is this...this...hipster wankfest of a dump..."

Now the intake of breath was visceral. A young doe with a "Je Suis Charlie" T-Shirt draped on her heroin chic frame looked down her nose past glasses free of lenses and smiled indulgently.

"Fascist! Have you shot any herbivores today? People like you should be shut up...permanently...we shouldn't have to hear your disgusting hate speech..."

The lion assumed her T-shirt must be ironic then. Or stolen.

"No...I haven't shot anyone recently."

"Recently?" the ram seemed genuinely interested, while trying to maintain suitable outrage for his audience. His ears flicked a little though in anticipation.

"Yeah, recently..."

"So that means..."

"Yes, I have shot someone. I was called to an armed robbery, he had a gun, I did what I had to do."

The ram gave a little shudder. "You killed him..."

"Yes, and I regret..."

"Fascist!" The bull took up the cry now. "With your badge and your machine gun..."

That did it. With a roar, the lion pulled his pistol. The bull pointed to it with glee.

"See the facist pulls out his machine gun. Are you going to shoot me mister fascist?"

"Machine gun! This is a Glock, a pistol you fucking brain free..."

"And I bet you didn't even try to wound him instead of executing him like the fascist you are..."

The shot sounded loud in the café. The impact wasn't, more a slight splatting sound. It hit the bull in his left knee. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by the bull collapsing to the ground in agony with a shrill scream. The ram and buck and doe watched on, dazed. The lion peered over the counter at his antagonist and nodded with satisfaction.

"You know, it's actually really hard to do, hitting someone like that. Oh, I know what you are thinking..."

The bull's screams for his mother had become somewhat pronounced, so the lion had to speak up a little.

"I know you are thinking, 'I've seen plenty of cop shows, and they can hit wherever they like...well, it's all a fucking lie. When you have someone coming at you with a gun, and yeah they usually have the actual fucking machine guns you wanker, you aim to put them down, fast, and that means aiming for the biggest mass, like this..."

His pistol raised again, and he aimed at the ram, right at his sternum. The dazed café owner merely flicked his ears and let his eyes bug out a little.

"Of course, given time, no opposition, and a target only a few feet away, I can do this..."

The second shot rang out, hitting the ram in his thigh. He dropped beside his beefy friend, also screaming.

"You know, the only thing I would like more than a beef burger...is lamb...dripping in mint jelly..."

The ram had his hands up, pleading.

"Not the mint jelly..."

"Yeah I know, food miles...still...or...venison..."

A turn, swift as a cat, and another shot. The buck went down screaming 'fascist', pulling his fixie bike with him. The lion finally turned to the doe. She had the good sense to look alarmed at least...

The lion eyed her up, with a shake of the head.

"How old are you?"

She seemed to shake herself, answering as if by rote.

"Nineteen..."

The lion sighed then, his aim drifting off target ever so slightly.

"College?"

The doe nodded.

"Major?"

"What?" she seemed perplexed now. He had to snarl for effect.

"What...is...your...fucking...major...douchecanoe..."

"Oh...cultural studies and..."

A shot rang out. The doe's hands gripped her left ear, now severed nicely by the passage of a 9mm parabellum. The lion gave a rueful grimace.

"Sorry...reflex..."

He did manage something from the wreck though. On the way out, he stopped by a table populated by three terrified equines. The one nearest the door had a mason jar full of brown liquid, and the lion stopped and gestured to the beverage. The astonished pony nodded.

He took a swig. Nice India pale ale, not too sharp. Very refreshing.

"Well...at least the whole visit wasn't wasted...maybe you lot are good for something."

He sucked down the delicious craft beer as he walked out into the sunshine, and breathed the fresh air of release as...

*****

"Parker? Parker! Time to get up for work!"

The groggy lion gave a sudden jerk, depositing the bedclothes on the floor in an ungainly heap. His muzzle felt like sandpaper, and his tongue felt like it had been stuck to the roof of his mouth with clag. He scratched his chest and then his balls, and tried to orient himself.

One look at the bedroom doorway and he remembered.

His boyfriend was standing there, looking so very very sappy as always. He gave a little internal sigh, taking in the outline of his big bovine lover. The bull looked concerned, even deeply worried, though he was clearly trying to hide it. It was in the way his ears looked though, and his tail, and those big brown eyes...

"Everything ok Parker?"

The lion reached for his watch on the bedside table. He had ages yet, stupid bull...

"Yeah, everything is great..."

"Only, I couldn't help but notice you were dreaming again...the nightmares?"

"Not exactly..." if anything, he found this dream most...enjoyable, actually...

"What was it about? The dream, I mean..."

"Err...nothing, just stuff. Don't worry..."

"You know the police psychiatrist...well, he said, you should discuss your dreams with him, it might help and..."

"No, I don't think he knows what he's talking about, and neither do you..." the lion shuddered at what the shrink might make of his latest dream, even as the half memory made him smile a little.

"I do you know. Tell you what, Ive made breakfast!" The bull beamed now, proud of himself. Parker tried to join him in his enthusiasm, but experience told him to be cautious.

"Yeah? Bacon and eggs over easy?"

The bull laughed, genuinely amused now. He didn't notice the glint in his lover's eyes.

"Of course not silly. I've made zucchini and pumpkin frittatas, and a nice quinoa salad..."

The lion managed to stifle the deep inner sigh. Instead he managed by supreme act of will, "Great..."

He also pulled the covers back off the floor and buried himself under them though, which sort of spoiled the attempt at appearing excited.

"Don't forget we have that gallery opening tonight hon."

"Great." He was a practiced expert at the great now. He used it a lot, he found. As he snuggled under the covers denying the morning and the work day its hold on his psyche, he sighed again, wondering how he had gotten here. He knew of course.

The Club...

As a fairly uncomplicated gay lion Parker was generally a happy sort. Most of the time he was content to go boozing with his cop buddies and indulge his favourite open pursuits of hunting, fishing, drinking, and football with his buds in tow. But there was one pastime he felt they would not look so kindly on...so for that, he came to a different part of town. One his own kind would not be found dead in, with laneway bars, galleries, university students, hipsters by the fucking truckload. And The Club, fashionable and grungy gay bar catering to all and sundry.

And there, in the fuck room in the dungeon he met his match, a hard bodied sexy as fuck bovine who was incredible in the sack, and suddenly he felt...feelings. Real feelings, like love and shit, as well as a distinct train of horniness. Suddenly he needed more, even yes feelings. Suddenly he needed more than just a fuckbuddy, and he needed it often. But the price...oh, fuck, the price...

"I got you a little something love...by the bed there..."

The bull gave him a smile full of infinite compassion, making him feel a total heel, and headed back to the kitchen to prepare his latest gourmet vegetarian meal. The lion tried hard not to think of burgers...burgers...burgers...

Now he couldn't think of anything else.

"This is getting serious." He knew he couldn't hold out much longer. Some day soon, he was going to break and scoff down a triple decker with all the trimmings and his bull was going to sense it and give him that look again, the one he got the day he forgot and ate a hotdog at the baseball. And then the lecture...

*Sigh*

His paw reached for the side table, and closed on an envelope. Curious, he opened it and pulled out the contents.

Two tickets to the football next weekend.

His muzzle broke into a smile, and he hugged the pieces of cardboard to his chest. The big beef burger was trying, after all. And fuck he was so ridiculously hot in the sack...

Maybe it was worth it. And after all, he still had his sleepy cat time....

*****

The lion stood in front of a canvas painted red. All over, just red. The simpering goat next to him was obviously a fan, and misread the lion's scowl for appreciation.

"It's...magnificent..." the goat was beaming now.

"Oh?"

"The juxtaposition of forces, the postmodern irony of it all..."

"Really?"

"Apoplectic Cardinals Harvesting Tomatoes by the Shores of the Red Sea: or, Violence Begats Violence, a tone poem in acrylic and canvas by Joshua Van Ryzbach-Smetterlin...do you know Van Ryzbach-Smetterlin's oeuvre?"

"Alas, I seem to have missed it. How much does it cost?"

The goat seemed affronted by the discussion of ignoble concepts like money. He managed to give the answer though, while simultaneously coughing.

"Err...about fifty thousand, I think...now would you like some pinot noir? Maybe some artisanal Brie?"

The lion smiled indulgently at the goat.

"No thank you, pinot noir tastes like fucking dirt and the brie isn't much better...I've got something far more fun planned..."

The goat stood like a statue of Pan, holding out the cheese. "Oh?"

The lion pulled out his pistol, took careful aim, and put six rounds into the canvas, then one into the goat, then one more for the brie.

"Delicious!"

*****

The bull tiptoed in on hooves made quiet with house slippers. They saved the hardwood floors from the depredations of bull hooves, and he always tried to save his floor as much as possible. It was made from recycled locally sourced timbers from an old warehouse, and the sustainability pleased him as much as the rich red grain of the wood.

He had a plate of frittata in one hand, and as he approached his lover, he noticed the lion had fallen asleep again. The cat looked so young, and so peaceful like this. His tail had stuck out from under the covers, and was twitching erotically, in a pattern the bull always associated with happiness. He had to restrain himself from patting the lion's head. Instead, he whispered for his lover.

"Psst...Parker...I've got the frittata..."

"Mpfgh..."

"There's cheese too...I know you don't like brie but..."

"Hmm...brie...delicious..." the sleeping lion managed to mumble through a grin.

The bull's smile became a matching big wide grin now.

"Yes it is hon!"

The football trip seemed to have worked. Maybe the lion was meeting him half way after all.