Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright

By Doug Jacquier

“What’s the main difference between Bigfoot, the Yeti, and the Tasmanian Tiger?” challenged Boof Turnbull, the bulldog-faced mayor of Dunnayewie.

The small gathering shuffled their feet and made asides to each other, fearing a trick question.

Finally, Shady Oaks ventured, “There’s no Bigfoot or Yeti here in Tassie?”

“Jesus, clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,” bellowed Boof. “The first two don’t exist but the Tiger does!”

Shady, wary of riling the mayor, said, “Well, used ter, Boof. Last one died over eighty years ago.”

Boof sighed. “My point is, pea-brain, that it did exist. It’s on film and there are genuine skeletons—not like those other cock-and-bull stories. And if it did exist, it can still exist.”

Tiny Clutterbuck stretched out his full six-foot six-inch frame and said dismissively, “The only bloke around here who’s ever seen one is Yabber Thompson, and he spends half his time on the bottle. Wouldn’t be surprised if he reported seein’ a pink elephant.”

All but Boof laughed.

“Good’un, Tiny,” Shady said.

“Go on, laugh. And when you’re finished, tell me the last time any of you had paid work.” Boof scanned the suddenly sober faces of the group. “Exactly. But that’s all about to change. None of this can go on paper, so listen carefully.”

Boof spoke quietly and conspiratorially—an unusual occurrence for him. “There’s been no work here to speak of since the greenies ended forestry and the timber mill.”

A chorus of “Bastards!” “Hippies,” “Rent-a-crowd,” and “Druggies,” rose until hushed by Boof. “Yeah, I know, but that’s all blood under the bridge now. The only way out is tourism.”

A gasp of disgust swelled from the group. “I’d rather die than kiss a tourerrorist’s arse for a hand-out,” Azza Rule vowed.

“Me too,” said Boof, “but the way I have it figured, the arse-kissing’s gunna be the other way round. Now, hear me out and wait ’til I’ve finished this time.”

The group settled, and Boof continued. “Here’s the core of my plan. The Tasmanian Tiger lives and will never die out. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. As long as we can get tourists, investors, and the government to believe it, they’ll flock here like seagulls onto a bucket of chips. Dunnayewie will become the center of the environmental universe. Now, I want you to go home, have a think about it, and come back next week with some good ideas about how we can suck everybody in and sit pretty for the rest of our lives. But remember—tell no-one, including your missus, Shady, and especially not Squeaker Ratzinger. Understood?”

All nodded, and a satisfied mayor called the meeting to a close.

Next week, Tiny kicked off the meeting with his plan for generating sightings. “My son, Luther, knows a bloke who knows a bloke who knows someone in Hollywood who’s an expert in holograms. He reckons he could knock up a fair dinkum looking thylacine in no time.”

Boof beamed. “Great idea, Tiny. Get started.”

Shady volunteered, “There’s gotta be a government grant we could get. I bet they’re a bit embarrassed that the Tiger is on the state’s coat of arms when they’ve knocked ’em all off.”

Boof grinned. “Just when I was about to write you off as a waste of space, Shady, you produce a nugget like that.”

Shady glowed.

“What about you, Azza?”

Azza drawled, “There’s only one track into the forest, and there’s no log trucks anymore. I reckon you could find a council bylaw, Boof, that gives us control over who can use the road. Namely, only us, and only in our authorized sight-seeing vehicle. I reckon a hundred bucks a ride sounds fair.”

Boof chuckled. “We’ll make a capitalist out of you yet, Azza.”

Shady sat with the State Premier, Yvonne “Needs” Must, and the local State MP, Bernard “Willy” Ever, in the premier’s office.

Yvonne began. “So, Shady, you want a million dollars of taxpayers’ money to set up this tourist trap, sorry, venture. Why would we want to do that?”

“Because, Premier, as you know, tourists spend about one and a half billion dollars here every year, and that creates a lot of jobs, and a lot of jobs creates a lot of taxes.”

“What makes you think the tourists will come?” challenged Yvonne.

“With respect, Premier, do you have any idea how much tourism the Loch Ness Monster attracts in Scotland or Big Foot in the US? Squillions. And that’s with zero chance of seeing either.”

“So you think this will do the same here? Even though there’s no chance of anyone seeing a thylacine either?”

“Oh, they’ll see them, Premier. Or at least, they’ll think so. Just often enough to keep the industry growing. And you’ll be funding the greatest effort to preserve the thylacines and their habitat ever attempted, for the sake of world heritage. I reckon we could even get David Attenborough out here to spruik it.”

Thus was born Tigerland and, in a short time, Disneyworld was passé. For their stay, visitors could choose from seven-star environmentally up-the-wazoo hotels to camping grounds for the plebs with “Please Don’t Feed the Tigers” signs.

Tiny managed the corporation’s distillery that made a forty-percent alcohol miracle hangover cure called Hair of the Tiger, which sold by the bucketload.

Meanwhile, it had been rumored that remnant packs of thylacines had interbred with their marsupial cousins, the Tasmanian devil and the kangaroo, to create the Killeroo. Uncorroborated sightings of a striped carnivorous beast that could leap six-foot fences and devour any living creature, including humans, had been dismissed by scientists, but of course no one listened.

Smelling a new opportunity, the now experienced team of Boof, Tiny, Azza, and Shady set off to investigate.

They have never been seen since but rumors and claimed sightings persist.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Doug Jacquier‘s writing meanders amongst the peaks and the swamps of various forms of short story, flash fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, from the lunatic to the lucid. For readers prepared to come along for the ride, he likes to make them think, laugh, cry, or groan (and, sometimes, all of the above). His poems and stories have been published in Australia, the US, the UK, and Canada.

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