Emotions Running High

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

As she had wished, I succumbed to sickness in that rented apartment. Fortunately for me, I woke up again to the day I first sponsored Janice.

On Christmas, I canceled a delivery appointment for the daughter of New Hork’s richest man. Instead, I flew overnight to deliver the baby of my brother, the Mafia boss, and his fiancée. The moment I stepped into the delivery room, she was already writhing in pain. Yet she suddenly grabbed my hand and demanded to know if I was a virgin. Seeing that she was already three centimeters dilated, I assumed the pain had muddled her mind. So I casually replied that I hadn’t been one for a long time. That was when she completely lost it, kicking me hard in the stomach as she screamed, “Get out! A shameless woman like you isn’t worthy of touching my son?! “Switch to a virgin doctor right now! Don’t pass your filth onto my child! Disgusting! “And take away all those imported supplements you brought! Even dogs wouldn’t eat them!” I stared at her as she rolled around on the bed and fell into deep thought. I genuinely couldn’t understand how a woman who got pregnant before marriage and was still living off my brother got the confidence to look down on someone else for not being a virgin? Calmly, I removed my gloves and called my brother right in front of her. “Your fiancée says I’m dirty, so I won’t be delivering this baby. Let her give birth on her own. “Oh, and I’ve canceled the top-tier delivery suite I reserved for you, too. After all, I wouldn’t want them to offend her eyes.”

"Mommy, you have to be the first person to come pick me up, okay?" These are my daughter Dorothy Grant's final words to me when she walked me out of the house this morning. But when I stand at the kindergarten's entrance with a box of Dorothy's favorite strawberry shortcake in my hands, the security guard just stares at me as though I lost my mind. "Ma'am, this place might be where Sunflower Kindergarten is located, but it has already closed its doors for three years. This place is now a retirement home." I rush into the "kindergarten" instantly. The spot where the slide used to be is now replaced by a row of flowerbeds. The room that used to be the classroom now hosts a bunch of elderly people, who bask in the sunlight. With trembling hands, I call my husband, Chester Grant, on the phone. He sounds very exasperated and exhausted over the phone. "Honey, we've been married for five years, and we choose to be childless. You've never given birth before."

My physics teacher held up my test paper with an 18-point score in front of all the students and parents and said, “Students like this are hopeless. I don’t even know how someone like this passed the high school entrance exam. “I didn’t think there was a way to cheat on the high school entrance exam, but it turns out there is. It gives people like this a chance to cheat.” He did not just insult my intelligence but also questioned my character and family. “Well, it’s not surprising. Only a junk-collecting family could raise a kid like this.” I curled up in my seat, too scared to say anything. But my stepmom could not stand it anymore. She smacked the chalk box off his desk, pointed at him, and yelled, “Who do you think you’re talking about?! “I send my kid to school and pay all the tuition and book fees! How did it turn into us being a junk-collecting family?! “You can’t even teach properly, and I haven’t called you out for it! Have you no shame?! You don’t deserve to be called a teacher! You’re just a piece of trash!” For some reason, she suddenly seemed imposing and heroic to me.

The kindergarten was engulfed in flames. My four-year-old daughter was trapped inside. I pleaded desperately with my firefighter husband, "Nina is upstairs!" He snapped impatiently, "You're just trying to stop me from saving Dana's daughter. How could you be so cruel? Dana is fragile. If she loses her child, it will destroy her. She won't survive this." That night, he emerged from the fire carrying Dana's daughter, instantly becoming a hero. Even at midnight, when I wept by the side of our daughter's ashes, he was still with Dana. "Samuel Leif, you'll pay for this!"

When I was in the early stages of brain cancer, my parents begged me to give my sister one of my kidneys. They also told me to give them the money I had saved for my treatment. When my sister left the hospital, it was her birthday. My parents threw her a party while I lay in a hospital bed trying to get better. Later, when my mom found out I had late-stage brain cancer, she begged my sister to give me a kidney. My sister said no. So, on the day of my funeral, my mom buried both of her kidneys with me.

My almost 50-year-old mother-in-law has recently gotten a new boyfriend. He's young, handsome, and has washboard abs. Just as I think she's finally hit the jackpot and found her true love, he climbs into my bed in the middle of the night…

My four-year-old son dies after someone crashes into him with a motorcycle. The culprit is a college freshman who's just been admitted. I'm devastated, but my husband generously forgives her. "We have to give her a chance since she's such an outstanding student. She's still young—we can't ruin her future." Ha. She has plenty of opportunities and a bright future ahead of her. What about my son? He was only four. Later, I rip his letter of forgiveness to pieces before his face. He wants me to forgive the young lady? No way in hell!

My husband, Ethan Parker, brought our daughter on a trip to the countryside with his first love, Mandy Sanchez. Halfway through, he abandoned our little girl and left with Mandy. When our daughter was surrounded by wolves, I could not reach him. By the time I arrived, the car was empty—the only thing left behind was a bloodstained piece of pumpkin pie. As I was dealing with my grief, Ethan finally answered his phone. "We're celebrating Thanksgiving. Why are you ruining the mood?" I internally scoffed at that man's audacity. Well, happy holidays indeed! Let me deliver a bloody pumpkin pie for you to really get into the spirit.