The Betrothal: The Three Types of Zoo

A BETROTHAL excerpt on Zoos, yes, Zoos:

There are three different types of zoo entrance:  the Wilderness Type, the Prison Type, and the Kong type. 

The Wilderness Type is employed by a committee of public trust shareholders that have never actually been camping much less in the Outback/Anaconda River/African Savannah, yet they know what the wild is supposed to look like, so all is well.  This is why the Wilderness Type of zoo ends up with heaps of big fake logs, plastic looking rocks, and a roof that mimics a hut with lots of dead straw and twigs.  It looks good at the opening of the zoo but after a few years gets really messy:  the logs need to be chopped down, the vines die, the rocks rust, the straw blows all over the place, and the janitors are always being called out to clean it up.  The Wilderness Type says, “We’re wild and crazy and you can be wild and crazy too!  Growl!” 

The Prison Type is contrasting with the Wilderness Type.  Its modern, it gets the job done, and it doesn’t take hostages.  Walking to a Prison Type of entrance you are greeted with queues—metal railings bracketing you in on each side, forcing you to transverse the twisting line of steel and boredom—while bland elevator music is pumped into overhead speakers, quelling your rising frustrations.  Once you escape from the queue you are led to a factory-like line of ticket booths, the workers encased in steel and glass with that small hole to trade money for tickets and the even smaller hole for you to talk to the cashier.  When you finally have the ticket you are buzzed through an electronically locked door and on the other side your safety is in your own hands.  The Prison Type says, “We have tried our best to keep you from getting killed, we don’t want to have to clean up your remains.” 

The Kong Type is created for the sole purpose of creating a sense of awe, both in the attendee and in the designers who think quite a lot of themselves.  The Kong Type has a giant front door opened wide; the space between hinting at what awaits you inside.  Maybe there is a colossal arch towering over your head, and statues, lots of statues:  brass, bronze, stone, all kinds of statues of elephants, tigers, and other dangerous predators.  And animal shaped bushes, can’t forget that.  Maybe someone even gets the bright idea to have the animals dragged outside and walk through the concrete when it is settling so there are giant paw and hoof marks under your feet.  The Kong Type says, “You are not prepared for my wonder!” 

I am sorry to disappoint after all that, but the zoo we went to wasn’t a Kong Type. A Kong Type in Utah? Come on people. Set up your expectations about things. Has anything really been Kong Type in this entire novel? Except for Tad…

THE BETROTHAL: OR HOW I SAVED ALAN EDWARDS FROM 40 YEARS OF HELL by Richard Raley, available at Amazon and Smashwords.

The Betrothal: Meet Tad

I decided it wasn't fair that THE BETROTHAL was getting absolutely zero pimping from me, so here's the first of a series of excepts to come out this month.

Meet Tad

“Got any new ones?” I asked and instantly regretted the good manners my mother had whipped into me. 

“Nah, man.  I got too many, and they’re kind of breeding now, so I don’t want to introduce a new species that will start eating the little ones.”  See my point about how gruesome fish are? 

“Does that happen often?” 

“Well, it’s not like you’re standing here and suddenly there’s a feeding frenzy with sharks gnawing on tuna heads,” Tad defended. 

I followed him into his bedroom.  “Basically you go to bed at night and when you wake up some of the smaller fish have gone off to see the Big-Fishie-in-the-Sky?” 

“Exactly.  I mean, there isn’t even any blood.  Just the occasional floating fin…they don’t like eating the fins.  And you got the mini pool-scooper for that, don’t even have to touch it.” 

“Why couldn’t you have gotten a dog?” 

“You find me a dog that glows in the dark and I’ll buy one,” Tad said as he started packing his duffle-bag like suitcase with clothes and bathroom supplies. 

“With the miracles of science, you never know,” I continued, looking at the silver shag-carpet like I was worried I was going to step on something squishy.  “…you know they made pigs glow?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah…green…like nuked bacon...or like those green tube-lights you crack at raves or in caves.” 

“That’s awesome…you know you rhymed, been writing any poems?” 

I ignored him.  We both knew from several badly written love poems in high school that couplets were not my thing.  “I don’t know why they did it, but yeah, interesting stuff.  The pigs, not the poetry.” 

“Would be useful is bed, could turn the lights off and still see what you need to see.” 

I chuckled…only Tad.  “Why do I have the feeling you use glowing condoms?” 

“That’s for the reminder, man.” Tad snapped his fingers and threw a jumbo-size box of condoms into his suitcase. 

“You really need the whole thing?” I asked. 

“Yes, I really do.  Just in case…” 

“Expecting many buses of cheerleaders in Utah?” 

“You can never be too careful, man.  Them cheerleaders will sneak up on you.”  He grinned at me.  Tad’s good at grinning.

You can read more about Tad's wisdom in THE BETROTHAL: OR HOW I SAVED ALAN EDWARDS FROM 40 YEARS OF HELL by Richard Raley, available at Amazon and Smashwords.