I-Tug-You-Tug

I bent down, and picked up the end of the long towel, which the beast thrust through the bars.

"You want to play?" I said.

From that wide, fanged muzzle came a small noise.

"Again?" I said.

Another small noise escaped those massive jaws.

"I gather," I said, "we are now friends. I know a world where a kind of animal, one you do not know, enjoys the back-and-forth game, the 'I-tug-you-tug game.'"

The beast shook the towel, and looked at me.

"I assume," I said, "that you do not mind my calling you 'Cyrus.' I thought it would be nice to give you a name. That is an Earth name but we will keep it as our secret. It was the name of a king. A king is like a Ubar, only, I think, not as powerful. To be sure, power depends ultimately on those who support it. Few understand that, save perhaps those who wield power, and are afraid. What is a bandit without his thugs, a tyrant without his police, a king without his army? Only a man who must eat and sleep, a man who can easily be abandoned or done away with."

A little more of the towel was thrust through the bars, toward me.

"There is not much scenery in a cell," I said. "Even a mindless brute like you can grow bored. I know you did not ask to be here, but neither did I. Are there not worse things? Would you prefer to hop about at the bidding of a slimy little man; would you rather try to dance to so loathsome a piper's tune? I told you about that, when you growled and rushed about in the cage. Had you smelled the scent of that exploited, mocked beast? Surely not on me, for I was not in proximity to it. Perhaps from the outside, through the window, with a shift of the wind, for it was not far away."

Often, as one will, I spoke to the beast, rather, I suspect, to hear myself speak, to be able to say things to someone or something who could not hold me accountable, or punish me for it. Does not speech and expression ease the mind?

"Very well," I said. "We will play, but I must soon be back at the Red Whip. That is a paga tavern, but, of course, you, you poor, simple beast, know nothing of paga taverns."

It pulled on the towel a little, and I tugged back, outside the bars.

It was within the cage, not near the bars.

I was outside the bars, by a yard or so.

"I do not see what you find diverting in this game," I said. "But who am I to say what a beast enjoys? It is enough if it amuses you. I know you are far stronger than I. You could tear the towel from my grasp at any time you wish. Yet you play as you do, sweet, simple Cyrus. You note, of course, that I, even in tugging, hold the towel loosely. It would not do for me, surprised, clinging tenaciously to the towel, to be drawn forward and dashed against the bars and perhaps seized should you, in the game's excitement, suddenly, forcibly jerk the towel toward you. I am a human. I am too clever for that, and you are too dull to think of it."

We continued to play.

"I must soon leave," I said. "I will be soon due at the tavern."

I noticed, to my unease, that the beast had, over our time of play, bit by bit, come closer to the bars.

It was now at the bars.

To compensate, I moved back, further away.

Apparently this was not noted by the beast.

Or I did not think so.

"Only a little longer," I said to the beast.

I held to the towel, tugging, and it regrasped the towel, and tugged back. A little later, it changed its grip again, and, later, again.

Suddenly, I froze with fear, for I realized the length of towel on my side of the bars was being shortened, inch by inch, drawing me closer and closer to the bars.
I flung down the towel crying out and leaped stumbling back, as, with an ugly, fierce, snarling sound that dark, powerful, violent, hirsute form thrust itself suddenly against the bars and, its head turned to the side, pressed against the bars, reached for me with its two long, prehensile, clawed appendages. I had heard my tunic torn at the right shoulder. I backed away, further, shaken.
Treasure of Gor     Book 38     Pages 361 - 362