Truth in Advertising

On Monday, the buses flashed by with pink and yellow letters and tropical flora and fauna.

New Enclosure!

Immersive Experience! Captivating!

I roll my eyes at the buses on Wednesday. Really. We have classified, ordered, and specified every creature discoverable. There are no more final frontiers.

On Saturday, a headache thuds me out of subconsciousness. I flop on my couch. I glare at the previous night’s dinner plate. A solidified puddle of dressing edged to one side, the plate askance on top of a crumpled copy of Clockwork Orange. I glance at my phone.

Hey, I need to cancel our coffee date today. Can we reschedule?

The third time she has canceled. I am over it.

Bits of popcorn kernels and apple seeds scatter on the carpet.

I need to vacuum. I need to clean.

Instead I grab my phone and check the website for this “New Enclosure”.

Immersive Experience! in red flashed on the site. I find my keys. “Okay. Impress me.”

Google Maps leads me. The signage directs me to the right past the main gateway to a “New Enclosure Parking”. I pull into a small lot, a red Tesla parked dead center. In the corner, a beige van with a busted-out window straddles the white line, a cardboard sign scrawled with #vanlife in its place. Bamboo stalks out of the soil where the cement parking lot ends.

Please do not wear red inside of the enclosure. Animals sensitive to wavelengths.

Staff cannot be held liable for damage that may occur.

I stuff my hands in my hoodie pouch and pull it away from my body. Bulging red kissy lips center over my chest. The rest of the hoodie is black. Should be fine.

A shiny banner flaps in the breeze above the cedar chipped path.

Immersive experience. Captivating!

Animals as you never have experienced them!

“They need new marketing,” I say, jumping at my own voice. No one was there to hear me.

I walk a few steps backward. Is the exhibit closed? I had checked the times.

A booth with “Tickets and Information” stands empty. There is a sign that says “Pay on the Way Out” with a kiosk pad on the other side of a hi gate turnstile. I press on the bars, wondering how much it costs to leave this place.

I walk down the cement curved path toward a “North America” sign. Artificial grass pokes up on either side. An exhibit rises to my left. On a flat rock, a hump of black curls in the sun. I run for a closer view from a round glass window. I tap it. The oily smudge of my fingerprint smears on its surface.

“Hey!” I bang on the glass. No one is there to witness my faux paus. No signage tells me no.

The black lump uncurls, its bottom half a tan color. Two cyan colored shoes pop out. An acne scarred human face appears, heavy lidded blinking. He curls his fists up and a stretch shudders his body.

His head swivels. His eyes meet mine.

My stomach lurches. He pushes himself to a seat. He slides down the rock and runs straight toward me. I stagger back. He presses his hands on the glass, banging, palms open wide.

“Where’s the food?” He yells. “Hey-y-y-y-y. Where’s the food today!”

“What? I – what the fuck, man! I don’t work here!”

He glares at the red lips on my hoodie, then huffs through his teeth, tosses his stringy black hair back, and paws his way back up the rock. He sits, cross-legged, with his back toward me.

“What the— was that.” I stalk away and sit on a park bench. My heart thuds against my sternum. I snort for breath, a dull meaty scent whiffing in the breeze.

“Does he work here?” I mutter. “Why did he ask me for food? Where are the animals?”

“Too weird.” I wander toward a building labeled “Apex Predators”.

The small glass displays inside held nothing except the leer of my own face. No animals are in sight.

“This is so stupid.”

A crack of light rims the edge of a door labeled “Employee Entrance” lumped to look like rock. I push on the door and walk through. A beach ball grazes the surface of a tepid pool of water inside. Big hammocks hang from trees. Two sun-cracked tractor tires sit with weeds jutting through. My open-mouthed face distorts like a fun house mirror looking out of the enclosure glass.

The grass behind me parted in my mirrored view. I whip around, and a man step out.

He wears a tailored blue suit with a double Windsor sky blue tie, and a pearl pocket napkin. The naked blue of his eyes raked down the length of my body.

“Are you here to bring my dinner?”

“Wha—”

“Then the fuck are you here for? I worked damned hard for this spot. I own this place, and you while you’re in it. You need to take your sorry ass and get out. I will eat you alive before I let you have a piece of this turf.”

“No, come on. What is really—”

He lunges at me. I run and slam the little door shut, his obscenities punctuating the silent air.

A weight settled onto my chest and my throat clenched. My stomach heaves.

I need to get out.

I lope down the path before looking back, seeing the man’s red face and a bulging forehead vein as he pounded the glass. Green lit my peripheral vision, and I turned to sprint toward the EXIT inside the exhibit “Foragers”. I yank open the door and slam it shut. Ahead of me is a glass wall. My image gapes in fear. My ears sting with the high-pitched whine.

POP! A red flash burns into my vision. I sink to my knees. An electric hum tapers off.

“Captivating,” I mutter, and fall forward into the dirt.