It would have to be my uncivilised hair. Too many girls have asked me why my hair is not "Dada B" (= soft and beautiful). These days, it's easy for me to tell them that my unsightly grown hair is caused by a life so far of bad food. The wild animal I'd like to tame is my hair.
But, then again, a panther is not unthinkable too!
Boom-goes-the-dynamite by Aaron & Alli
As an insensitive pre-teen brat, I concealed my Casio digital watch under my grandpa's bed, and set the alarm to go off in ten minutes. I knew he would go up for his afternoon sleep in five minutes. As he lay down, I "chanced" into his room, and narrated to him in calm undertones about how we'd learned about explosive chemicals in Chemistry class that day. Then, I let it slip, by accident, that we - the boys - had gone ahead to devise crude time bombs. Then, in passing, I mentioned that I'd stowed my bomb away under his bed for safekeeping. Eighty-three years of human experience doubted me until I started flying from the room three seconds before the alarm went off. Bless his soul, (and may he continue to rest in heavenly peace) my grandpa shot past me, and bounded down the stairs! It was the quickest I ever saw him move! He was not angry or anything at all. He called me naughty, and patted me on the back. Gee, I loved that prank!
About five years ago, a female colleague and I suffered a serious bout of a "gift" early in the morning from a very stingy client. We'd disliked him for a long time for the way he strutted about like he lived in a house of gold, although his hands would never slip into his pockets, wallet or slide across a cheque. He plunked it down on my colleague's table - she calls herself TBMN (The Beautiful Miss Nortey). So I asked from across the room, "What is it, then?" The penny-pinching client did not know what his gift was. :-) I took another look at it, and decided it was a cheap, glass paper weight cut like a pyramid, which the cat had dragged in from a one-dollar shop. Between saying our 'thanks' and stifling our smirks, he skirted the open door, and scooted out of the office.
It was way past bedtime. I was only 6 or 7, and quite precocious too. I was talking to my mother and aunt (my mother's friend really). My mother got up to take the tea cups(they'd been having a cuppa) to the kitchen, and my aunt farted so loudly. My mother turned and blamed me. The corner of my aunt's mouth twitched, but she pretended not to know what was going on. I haven't forgiven her at all!
