Lion roaring in Africa

The following is based* on a true story…

So there's this website where you can order lion steaks. Yes, real, juicy, thundercat-y, lion bit parts. (No, I'm not linking to it.) It does cost a small fortune, but still, I love the very American fact that we can take a look at one of the most proud, beautiful, majestic animals in the entire world, and say, "Yes, that. I want to put that on my plate, and from that plate into my toilet via my digestive tract." And not only are we allowed to do that, but by pressing a couple of buttons we can have it shipped directly to our front door, ensuring no accidental exercise transpires during this transaction.

This is all perfectly legal, because lions apparently aren't endangered (even though there seem to be some people who say "yes, yes they are"), and most of the lions are farm raised, which I think means they grow on a stalk out of the ground or some shit.

We exited the small craft and piled into Jeeps that would take us to our village. Or Jesusing. Whatever. I was gonna shoot Simba in the fucking face. As soon as I found out about this I decided that I wanted to try and devour some delicious and oddly arousing lion meat, but simultaneously that I didn't want this shit shipped to my door. I wanted to eat a lion, but I felt the primal need to get my hands on one myself.

I wanted to hunt it.

But after the fences at the lion breeding farm proved to be remarkably well guarded, I decided another course of action was in order. I still wanted the primal, carnal pleasure of tracking down my prey. Stalking it. Following its every move. Memorizing it's PIN number. Figuring out where it does its laundry. I still wanted to hunt it. And there's only one place I could to that.

So I signed up as a missionary in Sudan and was on a plane a week later.

"Is that the only bag you brought?" Tom asked, pointing to my luggage. Tom was nice. An excitable fellow. Very pale, dressed well.

"It's all I need."

"It looks like a gun case…."

"And you look like someone who needs to shut the fuck up before a brick of cocaine gets discovered in their bag."

Tom was quiet after that.

We exited the small craft and piled into Jeeps that would take us to our village where we were supposed to do all of the lion hunting. Or Jesusing. Whatever. I was gonna shoot Simba in the fucking face. Our transportation ended up leaving us somewhere that didn't have enough lions to satisfy my urge to shoot lions.

The missionaries around me were busy helping unload supplies, meeting locals, and other churchy things. Most of the locals themselves seemed to be scanning the trucks to see if anything else was coming off of them. Maybe food? Nope. Just more white people.

I, on the other hand, ignored all of this, and strode purposefully out of town and into the open plains and fields that stretched out before me as far as I could see.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked, coming up behind me.

Shit. Pasty little bastard found me. Gotta keep my cover. I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth.

"I'm gonna go convert the shit out of that field."

I unzipped my fly for dramatic effect.

"Dressed like that? Really?"

Most of the missionaries had decided to wear outfits that some would describe as "practical," but I describe as "totally gay." I, on the other hand, looked awesome in my Iron Maiden t-shirt and ripped jeans. Tennis shoes are perfectly fine for crossing Africa.


"Do you at least have supplies in that ‘bag' of yours?" he asked, pointing to my expertly concealed weapon receptacle.

"More Slim Jims than could choke a lion. Erm, I, uh, mean…. ALL OF THE LIONS ARE GOING TO BE HEALTHY AND I WON'T KILL THEM!!! I AM A LION DOCTOR!!!"

I'm not sure what Tom said to this, as at this point I had taken off running full bore into the African Savannah, screaming loudly about all of the lions I was going to doctor.

That was close. Almost lost my cover.

Now, to find me a big cat.

I don't know if you know this, but Africa is hot, and you can't drink Slim Jims.

So I was getting pretty sweaty, and I removed most (all) of my clothes and discarded the gun case. The only thing I had with me was my wits and the cold steel I gripped in my sweaty hands. And the Slim Jims. Wasn't just gonna throw that shit away.

I wiped the perspiration from my brow, and my balls, desperately looking for any source of water, but unfortunately, the only water I had been able to find were streams, rivers, and ponds, and that water just looked gross.

There had to be a 7-11 around here somewhere…

I heard a rustling behind me.

I turned. Nothing.

I must be going mad from the Slim Jims…

A growl.

I got nervous and farted.

Out from a lion stepped a large lion that…had probably been standing there for a little while. There were two lions.

Holy fuck these things are big! Oh man. Fuck that. Fuck these things. I thought they were like, cats or some shit. Everyone said they were some kind of cat. Cats are small; these are bears. Wild, African bears. And guess what? African bears are goddamn enormous, and lick their lips a bunch when they walk towards you menacingly.

I'm going to level with you. Honesty time here. I may have panicked a little. Both crying and urination may or may not have transpired. It was a weird moment. Even the lions looked a little confused. Still hungry as all get out, but I feel like there was a touch of confusion thrown into the mix.

But wait! My gun!

Suddenly they were no more than ten feet away. A difficult shot, to be sure. But I had to try. I had to try.

I got up onto my knees (I may have fallen into the fetal position for a moment) and aimed my weapon. My hands where shaky, but I did my best to hold the gun steady as I looked down the sights. I placed the closest lion's head right where I wanted it…

…and pulled the trigger.

The foam dart bounced harmlessly off of his face.

Okay, honesty time again.

As you know (if you know me), I am exceedingly poor, and guns are expensive. As such, I had to make certain budgetary cutbacks when preparing for this trip (side note: preparing for this trip mostly involved cursing at Animal Planet a bunch). And one of the things I cut from the budget was an actual gun. In retrospect, this was probably not the best thing to cut, considering the entire purpose of my trip was to hunt, and then shoot, a lion. I am not a clever man. At the time (because I was fucked up on Lysol), I decided that a NERF gun would make a more than adequate replacement for a real gun. And I kind of forgot about it until this moment… when a lion was looking at me like it was real pissed off that I shot a foam dart at it.

The crying may have resumed once again.

I held up my gun in one last defiant act, and pulled the trigger again.


Holy fuck! That was a real gunshot!

The lions where unharmed, but quickly turned tail and ran at the sudden eruption of bullets.

I stood up to proclaim myself a wizard, but quickly noticed the source of the gunfire.

"Goddammit, Tom," I said, throwing my hands in the air.

Tom and a couple of the locals from the village had driven up behind me in a Jeep, and they all had shotguns.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, hopping out of the Jeep and running up to me.

"Duh. I was about to wizard those fucking lions," I said, standing up and wiping the dirt off of my groin. The other guys in the Jeep seemed perfectly content with keeping their distance from me.

"No, you were about to get eaten. And where are your clothes?"

"Got rid of 'em. Slowed me down," I said, giving him a steely gaze.

"You probably have heat stroke. Come on, let's get you back to the village."

I allowed him to give me a ride back, only because I wanted to chance to grab one of their guns so I could go back and find more lions. In the Jeep I did my best to sit my sweaty naked body as close as I could to all of the very uncomfortable men.

Needless to say they flew me back home without giving me much of a choice in the matter… something about attending a court hearing on some sort of poaching charges, which were dropped, fortunately, seeing how I had no actual weapons and could perform no actual poaching.

Needless to say, the trip sucked balls for bricks, and I didn't even get to try any lion.

Worst trip ever.