When the animals decided to choose a king, the Lion came forward expecting to be anointed and crowned. “I would be honoured to accept your nomination,” he declared graciously. “I am the natural choice, being already widely-regarded as pre-eminent among beasts.”

The animals thanked him, produced a ballot, and told him to return with it the following week to cast his vote. “My vote?” the Lion queried, somewhat taken aback. “Your vote, yes. We are holding an election,” the animals replied.

“Why go to all that trouble for what must surely be a formality?” the Lion continued. “Come, let us decide the question here and now. Raise your paw if you want me to as your king.”

Not one of the animals raised their paw. The Lion’s eyes flashed with a sudden fury. “If not me, then who?” he bellowed. “Explain yourselves. Who else has the qualities, the majesty and charisma, to rule?”

“Please do not be offended,” the animals explained. “It’s just that everyone’s vote must be counted and not everyone is here right now and, well, the ballot must also be secret to ensure the vote is not unduly influenced by fear or intimidation.”

“So you are afraid me? Is that it?” the Lion asked. “Do you think I would hurt you if you didn’t vote for me? Is that it?” The Lion advanced on the animals, the muscles in his powerful shoulders twitching, saliva dripping from his stained teeth.

The animals shrank back, all except one, a brave young fox who stood its ground and answered the beast. “Of course, we are afraid of you,” it said. “We are afraid because your breath stinks of rotting flesh, the flesh of your fellow animals.”

The animals gasped. The Lion let rip a sarcastic roar of laughter. “Let me smell your breath,” he said. “I imagine your breath is not so sweet. You who steals chickens and feeds on carrion.” “But I do not seek to be king,” replied the fox.

“You think your ruler should be more virtuous than you? Is that it?” “We would like them to try,” the animals replied. “I see,” the Lion’s gaze narrowed. He was beginning to think this election was rigged against him, that the animals intended to exclude his kind from power.

But the Lion would never allow any creature but him to take the title of king of the animals.

“Know this,” he declared. “Not only will I never give up the hunt, but I will hunt and kill whoever it is you choose to lead. Let them defend themselves. Let them prove who is best. Until you accept the natural order, you will never have the stability you crave.”

The Lion shook his thick, lustrous mane as if ridding himself of the animals’ irritating little ideas and then stalked back into the bush. The animals watched him leave in silence. It was not going to be easy, this business of democracy.

“And all he need have done was cleaned his teeth once in a while,” said the young fox. “He’d have had my vote.”

© Richard Parkin, 2023

Notes can be found here: ‘Misadventures in the Land of Fables #22‘