The Tiger  I'm hunting. There are five lions there. Or, there may be two lions there. I have an encounter with a tiger. I'm near the white house on the west side of Home Avenue in the middle of our block. The tiger charges at me. I take aim at it with my BB gun. I wait until it's within range, and I fire, hitting it squarely. It reaches me. I stab it in the face with the barrel of my gun. I fire then gun and stab it again, and repeat these things four or five times. The tiger dies. I'm inside the house, where I go to bed. My mom and my sister Ramona are sleeping. I say to my mom that the tiger, or my brother Wally, died four dreams ago.