Excerpt: The Tiger and the Bottle
I haven’t been writing much this month apart from Patreon stuff, so here’s a complete little short story I wrote about ten years ago and honestly I can’t remember if it got published anywhere. As you can see, I loved fairy tales long before I wrote The Price of Thorns. This one is pretty clearly based on The Fisherman and His Wife, which you’ll see if you know that one, but you don’t need to.
The Tiger and the Bottle
by Kyell Gold
Once upon a time, in a town by the ocean that was larger than a village but not quite so large as a city, there lived a poor but happy tiger and his boyfriend, a hyena. Work was hard to find, in those days, and on days when the tiger was tired of looking for a job, he walked along the beach north of the town, looking for anything washed up on shore that he might sell on eBay.
It was a clear, sunny day, just the kind of day that was perfect for walking along warm white sand with the hiss and crash of waves in your ears, when a soft gleam of light winked at the tiger from a patch of seaweed. He moved the seaweed gently with a stick (for as you know, you must never reach into a patch of seaweed with your paws unless you would like them pinched), and revealed a shapely glass bottle, blown in the shape of a fish.
Old bottles were often valuable, so the tiger reached down to pick it up. When he shook the sand from it, he saw that the glass had been shaped, each delicate scale rendered in loving detail. He turned it over in his paws, thinking about the month, or perhaps two, of freedom from worry that the bottle would buy them. As he did, he saw something dark, a shadow within the bottle that turned with the bottle, a shape lodged inside. He shook the bottle to dislodge it, and the wind blew across the mouth of the bottle and made a keening noise that turned into a song.
O wand’rer fair, O wand’rer bold,
The paws which do my bottle hold,
I beg thee, grant me what I yearn
And to the sea let me return
“Throw you back?” the tiger asked. He hesitated, as you may well understand, for the bottle was all the more valuable now it had spoken to him.
O wand’rer fair, O wand’rer good,
My meaning you have understood,
There is no more I have to say,
Please throw me back without delay
The tiger hesitated one moment longer, for it might be as much as four months free of worry about rent and food that the bottle would bring them, but after all, it had asked politely and said ‘please,’ and when someone says please, it is polite to grant their request. Besides that, it did seem that the bottle was someone’s home. Though the small, shabby apartment that the tiger and the hyena rented was not much of a home, the tiger would have been rather put out had someone come along and sold it on eBay even if they’d asked him politely not to, and said ‘please’ in the bargain.
So he wound back his arm (he had a good arm, the tiger did, and always won at Frisbee) and he let the bottle fly. It made a sparkling arc in the air and landed in the sea with a splash. And perhaps it said, “thank you,” but was too far out to sea for the tiger to hear it.
When he went home that night and told the hyena about the bottle, the hyena was quite upset. “You found a magic spirit in a bottle and you didn’t even ask for a wish?” he said. “You always ask for a wish.”
“What should I have wished for, then?”
“Maybe a job.” The hyena laughed. “Go back tomorrow and see if the spirit is still there.”
The tiger felt rather ashamed, because of course he knew all the stories about magic genies in lamps, and simply because there were no stories about magic genies in delicately carved fish-bottles did not mean the same principles did not apply. So he returned to the beach the next day, and when there was no-one about, he called out:
O spirit fair in bottle green,
I was your friend, as you have seen,
I’m sorry now to call you so,
My boyfriend says one wish you owe
He thought it not so bad for a poem written on the way to the beach, but still would not have felt comfortable saying it while other people are listening. If you should chance to talk to him, please do not tell him I told you.
After a moment, he spied a flash of green on the water, and he heard the keening voice of the spirit. “What does your boyfriend wish?”
“He would like me to have a job,” said the tiger.
“I will grant your wish if you answer me one question,” the bottle-spirit said.
The tiger agreed, and the spirit asked its question: “How long have you and your boyfriend been together?”
“Three years next month,” the tiger said. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Go home. Your wish is granted.” The bottle sank beneath the waves.
And when the tiger went home, he had received a call from a college friend who wanted him to work in an office answering phones. The job was not glamorous, but the pay would cover his portion of the rent each month.
The hyena said, “It’s not fair that you get a job and I don’t. I want you to go back tomorrow.”
“I have already used my wish,” the tiger said. “But my friend might be able to get you the same job I have. We could work together.”
“No,” the hyena said, “wish for me enough money in my bank account so that I don’t have to have a job.”
The tiger had not thought of that either. “I am not certain he will grant another wish,” he said.
“If you don’t go and ask, he certainly won’t,” replied the hyena, and the matter was settled.
The tiger’s friend wanted to take him to lunch for his first day on the job, but the tiger put him off, saying he had to take a walk. The day was warm, but clouds were gathering as he reached the beach, sat on the sand, and called:
O spirit fair in bottle fish,
I thank you for my granted wish,
I’m sorry now this rhyme to sing,
My boyfriend wants just one more thing
He was not happy with “bottle fish,” but he supposed it to be poetic license. Again, he looked from side to side to make sure nobody else heard. Again, I ask your discretion.
The bottle appeared floating in the water, and again the bottle-spirit’s voice came to the tiger on the sea breeze. “What does your boyfriend want?” he asked.
“He wants enough money in his bank account so that he does not have to work,” the tiger said.
“I will grant your wish if you answer me one question. What is your favorite place to eat in the town?”
The tiger thought about that. “Shalimar,” he said. “They make a lovely antelope curry. Do you have a favorite restaurant? Er, in your bottle?”
“Go home. Your wish is granted.” The bottle bobbed on the water and then sank below the waves.
And when the tiger went home, he found the hyena putting on a suit. “We’re going out to dinner!” the hyena said. “My uncle who invented anti-flea underwear died and left me enough money so that I don’t have to work. I’ve made reservations at Alessandro’s, the steakhouse behind the dance club. We’ll eat ’til we’re full and then dance the calories away. And tomorrow I will start going to the gym to get in shape.”
“Should I quit my job?” the tiger asked.
“Oh, heavens no. The money is enough for me not to work, but only if you have a salary as well. But look, I have something for you.” The hyena held out a small card. “My uncle had a small interest in that restaurant you like, Shalimar. So you may eat there for free once a week.”
So they went to the steakhouse, but the tiger could only stay at the club for an hour before he had to go home to get to sleep for work. And the next day, he did have a very nice dinner at Shalimar, though the hyena was too tired to go with him from playing video games all day.
For a week, the tiger went to his job while the hyena played video games. At the end of the week, the hyena complained, “It’s just that the gym is so far. If we lived next to the gym, I would go every day.”
“I could go with you,” the tiger said. “It’s on my way to work. I would just leave an hour earlier.”
“I can’t get up at the time you do,” said the hyena. “You must go back and wish for us to live next to the gym. In a house, not a small apartment. With a bedroom for both of us, and one extra, and a patio for grilling.”
At that, the tiger was worried, because he did not want to impose on the bottle-spirit any further, but he was also secretly glad, because he had been working on his poem in case his hyena asked for more. So he said he would go in the morning.
The day was overcast and the sea breeze stronger. The tiger looked around and then sang out at the sea:
O spirit fair with powers great,
Don’t think I don’t appreciate
The fortune that your powers bring;
My boyfriend just wants one more thing.
He felt that this was a better effort than he had previously put forth. As he well knew, the proper use of a semi-colon does give one a certain distinction. If you should perchance talk to him, do not mention the poem, but you might ask after his semi-colons.
Once again the spirit appeared, and when the tiger had stated his wish, asked him one question. “What kind of movies do you like?”
“I kind of like action movies,” the tiger said. “I like all kinds of movies, but sometimes I just like to turn my brain off and watch things blow up. What kind of movies do you like?”
“Go home,” the spirit said. “Your wish is granted. Er, so I should add that ‘home’ is now a house next to the gym.”
“Thank you,” said the tiger. “I remembered.”
“I just didn’t want you to get lost.” And the bottle sank beneath the waves.
When the tiger returned home (which was the house beside the gym), he found it empty. So he went next door to the gym, after changing, and there he found the hyena, walking on a treadmill. “This gym is great,” the hyena said.
The tiger looked up at the TV over the adjacent treadmill, which was playing “Die Hard” on Spike TV. “Does this TV show Spike TV all the time?”
“Sometimes it shows F/X. But who cares about the TV? Look at all the good-looking guys in here!” And indeed, the gym was full of foxes and wolves, tigers and lions, deer and elk, rabbits and mice, all nicely toned.
So the tiger worked out as well, and watched “Die Hard” through to the end. When they went home, to their large three-bedroom house with a very modern kitchen and a small patio in the backyard for summer barbecue parties, the hyena seemed happy, and the tiger thought that he would not have to go back to the beach anymore. The thought made him sad, but what did they have to wish for now?
A week later, the hyena’s happiness had vanished with the speed of a villain plummeting a hundred stories. “None of the cute boys at the gym notice me,” he complained. “If I owned the gym, they would care when I walked in.”
“Why don’t you buy the gym with the money your uncle left you?” the tiger asked.
“He didn’t leave me that much,” the hyena said, “and anyway, I’ve spent quite a bit of it.”
“On what?”
“Never mind. Just go and wish for me to own the gym.”
It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, the tiger thought. If his hyena owned the gym, then perhaps he could work there as well.
So the next day over lunch, the tiger walked down to the beach. It was quite chilly this day, with the wind whipping up the waves into whitecaps and the clouds gathering thickly overhead. There was of course nobody on the beach on such a gloomy day, so he strode to the water’s edge and sang,
O spirit good, O spirit fair,
One more request to you I bring,
Though you’ve done much more than your share,
My boyfriend wants just one more thing
He would be very surprised if any of you mentioned this poem to him, and not a little embarrassed, so I beg your discretion again. Please keep in mind that he was preoccupied during the morning wondering what his boyfriend might have spent money on, and it is difficult to compose poetry about one thing when your mind insists on thinking about another.
The bottle flashed amidst the whitecaps. It was difficult to make out the spirit’s response, but the tiger heard his question: “What is your favorite flower?”
The tiger thought that an odd question, but he called out, “Tulips.”
“Go home,” he heard on the wind. “Your wish is granted.”
And when he went home that night, he saw that the gym had been renamed, and that four lovely beds of tulips had been planted out front. His house was full of young male foxes, rabbits, marmots, and other species. A few of them said hello, but most ignored him. The house smelled of sweat and musk.
He found his hyena in the kitchen making daiquiris. “You must be happy,” he said. “Everyone from the gym is here.”
The hyena didn’t look happy. “Sure.”
“And you planted tulips for me,” the tiger said.
“Did they put tulips in? I didn’t notice. Do you like the new name?”
The tiger said he did. “Why aren’t you out there with the boys from the gym?”
“They make fun of me behind my back. They’re only here because I’m rich.” He poured a daiquiri for himself and drank it, then poured another. “You want one?”
The tiger shook his head. “I don’t like rum.”
“Right.” The hyena drank that one too.
“Maybe you and I could go out,” the tiger suggested. “It’s a nice night. We could see a movie.”
“The problem is,” the hyena said, “the problem is, it’s going to take me forever to get in shape. And they won’t really like me unless I’m buff.”
“I like you,” the tiger said, although I must tell you that when he said that, he was thinking about their first year when they watched movies together and did odd jobs for cash together and cuddled close in the small bed to stay warm, and not about the last few months, and especially not about the last few days.
“If I could just be super buff,” the hyena said, “then I’d own the gym and we’d have the house and all those cute boys out there would really like me.”
His eyes pleaded with the tiger. “Why don’t I go back and wish for it?” the tiger said.
The hyena beamed. “Super buff,” he said. “Thank you, darling.”
A great storm rolled in the next day. Rain and wind lashed the beach as the tiger struggled down to the water’s edge. He had to keep his eyes narrowed against the weather as he sang.
O spirit in the bottle!
My boyfriend has another wish!
You will understand that the tiger had been rather too upset to compose poetry. And even if he had, it would be difficult to sing any sort of poem with the rain and the wind.
There was no flash of bottle among the waves. The tiger’s paws were wet with rain and the splash of the surf. He thought for a moment that the spirit had not heard him, and so he sang again.
O spirit in the bottle!
My boyfriend has another wish!
The keening of the wind came to him then. “What is your boyfriend’s wish?”
The tiger rubbed salt air and rain from his eyes. “He wants to be super buff so the gym boys will want to sleep with him.”
Storm winds howled and rain hid the first part of the spirit’s answer. “… answer one question.”
“Ask it!” yelled the tiger.
And the storm seemed to pause and hold its breath. The rain paused in the way that rain does when it ebbs and flows during a storm. The waves quieted on their way to the shore. The tiger wrapped his arms around himself and tried to keep warm.
“Would you like to come and live in my bottle with me?”
The tiger thought he had not heard properly. The wind picked up and the rain fell, and a wave crashed at his feet, soaking his pants in salt water. “What?” he yelled.
“Would you like to come and live in my bottle with me?”
This time there was no doubt. He thought about his hyena and their small apartment, and the hyena at the party next to the gym. He thought about the hyena with his arms around the cheetah, and the hyena’s muzzle pressed to the spotted feline one. “Yes!” he called. “Yes!”
The wind vanished, the rain ceased. He was in a green world, soft light filtering through the walls. On a long, low row of cushions sprawled a sleek tiger in silky robes of saffron. He smiled and beckoned to the wet, cold tiger. “I know it doesn’t look like much,” he said, “but it is a perfectly satisfactory home.”
The tiger stepped forward. “May I really stay?”
“For as long as you wish,” the spirit said.
And for all I know, they are living there still.