Lekya looked down at the piece of paper in his hand for the hundredth time, and shook his head. "Well, Sasha," he said resignedly, "What we gonna do now, eh?"
Sasha looked over at him, but said nothing. Instead he simply flexed one of his enormous legs against the far arm of the couch. One of his claws wasn't fully retracted, and it caught on the fabric, leaving a long trail of torn thread, one of many covering the couch. Sasha was not allowed to deliberately scratch the furniture, but Lekya was not inclined to scold him for the occasional accident. What was the point?
"The wonderful government superhero MacDougal says we are tax evaders, Sasha! Criminals! Worse than murderers, 'cause we take his salary out of his pocket by evil scheme to avoid sales tax. But he caught us! Just like 007. The free world is safe once more. Jesus Christ!"
Sasha looked at Lekya quizzically. The lion could tell that Lekya was upset, but had no idea why. The little funny smelling man? What threat did he pose? Why, Sasha had barely given him the tiniest of roars to see what he was made of and the man had practically wilted.
"He'll probably send us dry-cleaning bill after soiling his nice expensive suit! Serves him right; expensive suit on salary paid by Lekyas across state! Mind-boggling."
Sasha was lying on the couch that he thought of as HIS couch, though he would allow Lekya to sit on it, if grudgingly. It was a very long, very wide couch, and the big cat was very close to actually fitting onto it; however, the fact was that it was still just a bit too small for him and his legs jutted out in all directions. Nonetheless, he looked extremely comfortable, in the manner that only cats can obtain.
Lekya read aloud from the paper in his hand, though he almost had to choke the words out. "'Preliminary assessment of damages owed: $20,000.' And that's just his guess, before they do audit. Twenty grand! Might as well be twenty million!"
He looked over at Sasha, who was twitching his tail uneasily on the couch. "We don't have it, Sasha, we just don't have that kind of cash. Nothing to sell, too. Crap! Excuse me."
Sasha made a concerned rumbling sort of noise.
Lekya looked over at the small coffee table near the TV, filled with pictures and bric-a-brac. "Can't ask Celia for the money. She's just out of school. She doesn't have any cash." His daughter's face smiled back at him from the picture frame.
"What are we gonna do, Tanya?" But his late wife's picture was also silent.
On the TV next to the coffee table a commercial ended and an anchorwoman began to discourse about local tragedies and national scandals. "The Senator refutes the allegations..."
"Look at this Sasha. Nothing but reruns, even the news. Ah me. I should be be Senator. YOU should be Senator. Then we see action in congress! Ha!"
Sasha had his eyes half shut, in a manner common to lions, not really paying attention but then again not necessarily not paying attention either.
The graphic behind the anchorwoman switched to a montage of a chalk body outline superimposed over a pair of hypodermic needles. "Police are investigating yet another gang-related shooting..."
"Drug dealers. Shooting each other. Bad. Didn't pay sales tax either! Hang 'em!"
Sasha was glad that the TV seemed to have distracted Lekya form his troubles. He enjoyed listening to TV with Lekya, not for what was said on the shows, which of course he didn't understand, but because Lekya became so animated with his opinions.
The graphic behind the anchorwoman now read "Terrorism" in a pseudo spray-tagged graffiti font. "Federal agents say they still have no leads in the latest 'Animal Wrongs' killings. The gruesome crime, the work of an underground 'Animal Militia' calling themselves Tiger, Tiger, is the latest in a string of carefully planned and ritualistically executed attacks on what the group terms 'Enemies of Animals'."
The screen was filled with a video image of white-draped stretchers being carried out of a dilapidated farmhouse by uniformed paramedics. "On April 25, authorities discovered a hidden chamber beneath this Arkansas farmhouse. Tiger Tiger had converted this chamber into a replica of a scientific laboratory, an effort that must have taken months of hard work and hard currency. In this mad laboratory, over a dozen top scientists from academia and industry were systematically tortured over the course of four months' time. The FBI aren't releasing details, but one source has indicated that the terrorists kept detailed notes of their 'experiments' and left a video taped testimonial behind."
A scowling, care-lined, mustached man appeared on screen. A superimposed screed read "Agent Fred Hawling - FBI". "These are evil, evil people. They said that they were simply recreating some of these scientists' experiments; but what it is is pure sadism, pure and simple."
The anchorwoman reappeared. "The three survivors are currently hospitalized. Two are in critical condition..."
Crack! The tip of the lash grazed the on/off switch and the sound and picture on the TV cut out. Lekya Vetrayna's preferred remote control was his 12-foot lariat.
"Crazy people, Sasha. Crazy people everywhere. Running around free 'cause cops too busy comin' down on poor folks like us. Psychos chopping people up left 'n' right, prisons are filled with pot smokers and people who didn't know they had to pay sales tax! Why? 'Cause they're easy to catch! They don't think they're doing anything wrong!"
Lekya held the now-coiled lariat out to Sasha, who gave it a half-hearted tug with his bearded jaw. "That's no good, Sasha! Give it a good yank! Pretend it's a tax auditor."
Sasha let go and turned his head in a haughty manner.
"Oh, come on, Sasha! Fight the system! Show the taxboy what's what!"
The lion lashed out lazily with his enormous left paw and snagged the lariat with a claw the size of a paring knife.
"That's more like it! Ha! Rue the day you tussled with Lekya Vetrayna and the Amazing Sasha!"
Sasha let go of the lariat and yawned expressively, stretching his paws and extending his claws.
Lekya tossed the lariat onto the chair he had been sitting in, disgustedly. "Bah. You right. Is hopeless. We are doomed, Sasha."
Lekya looked at the coffee table, with its awkwardly arranged photos and mementos. He scowled at the photo of his late wife. "Ahh, Tanya. I feel so hopeless. I wish I had just a whisper of your faith. Whenever things got wrong, you'd say 'God will get us through it', and that would make me fight to see us through, so that you would be able to keep ahold of that faith. You had God, all I had was you, but I think I got the better deal."
He picked up her well-thumbed old bible. "I don't even know why I keep this around any more. Without you, it's just a pile of paper. Names and words and fairy-tales."
He held the book out to the lion. "What you say, Sasha? Wanna take a bite? I feed you Book of Daniel, you can straighten up ancestors' screwup!"
Sasha shook his head. A flea had crawled into his ear.
Lekya tossed the book back onto the coffee table. "Ahh, I give up. Can't even feed Christianity to the lion."
He picked up Tanya's picture and looked deeply into her glimmering eyes. "Ahh, Tanya, if you were here I know what you'd do. You'd pray for a miracle. You'd pray until I would make that miracle happen for you. But you're not here. And I'm out of miracles."
He put the picture down and sagged. "No more miracles. No more Tanya, no more miracles in the world."
The phone began to ring.