Nothing Can Get Us at the End of the World Except Maybe This Tiger Benjamin Davis
I have a recurring dream where I live in a valley at the end of the
world and spend every day avoiding a tiger. I have a daughter there. She's
seven-years-old with one eye and thumb-sucker lips. I don't know how we eat,
sleep, or find the time to make daughters in this place because it is fairly
time-consuming avoiding this tiger, but there she is. I don't know how she
lost the eye. The tiger, probably. She doesn't have a name. She has a
catchphrase though. I'd like to buy a train ticket to anywhere else, please!
She gets a real kick out of it. I'm proud of her for remembering to say
please, but she's never seen a train which makes this all the more
mysterious. When she is bored, or adults are talking, or when we're lying
prone, in the mud, beneath a fallen tree, behind a bush, waiting for the
tiger to finish prowling by, she looks over at me, and whispers, I'd like to
buy a train ticket to anywhere else, please! and then giggles like it's the
funniest thing in the world which it might be since as far as I can tell the
world consists only of a tiger and its lunch.
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