The Morning Paper

The Morning Paper

Diego stared hard at the front page of the morning newspaper, then frowned.

The composite sketch of the suspect looked nothing like him. The man in the sketch had straight, shoulder-length hair. Diego's was curly. The suspect's chin, according to the artist, was fuzzy and clefted like a peach. In reality, Diego's round chin was almost nonexistent, melding with the folds of his thick neck. But most disappointing of all to Diego was the way the artist depicted the eyes of the suspect. They were staring in two directions at once.

Diego slammed his fist down. The coffee in his cup sloshed over the sides.

Supposedly, a guard had seen him leaving. But why did they lie, make up the description? Why would they make Diego seem a fool. Why?

Diego began to read the accompanying article. The hair on his arms stood up.

A fat, funny-looking man? The air rushed out of the room. Diego shut his eyes. He took deep, controlled breaths through his mouth until his breathing normalized.

The suspect, according to the article, had left a foul-smell resembling vinegar at the scene of the crime. Diego grabbed a handful of tablecloth. Then, after gradually easing his grip, he raised his right arm above his head. He sniffed his armpit.

Vinegar? Not even close.

The article went on to say that footprints found near the victim's body indicated the killer had freakishly big feet.

Freakishly big? Like what? A clown? Were they trying to say Diego was a clown?

Diego slid his chair away from the table and looked down at his bare feet. Although they were enormous, like his mother's, they could in no way be considered freakishly big.

For a while, Diego sat there, sweating under his arms. His mouth was dry.

Like always, the entire world was trying to make a fool out of him.

He reached out and grabbed the newspaper, began to ball it into a huge wad, but stopped when he glimpsed a sentence in the article that read: The killer ejaculated prematurely, leaving a sticky trail on the victim's rear legs and tail.

He felt his jaw tighten, the right side of his face twitch. Anyone reading the article would be doubled over, laughing. Diego grit his teeth. He looked around the kitchen for something sharp to poke his eyes out with. No way he could go on living. The article was too humiliating.

He turned the newspaper over so that he was looking at the back page.

Hold up. Diego straightened in his chair, let the newspaper drop to the floor. His jaw dropped and his eyes filmed.

In bold headlines on the back page: A pair of Albino tigers arrive at the Atlanta Zoo.

Tigers? Albino? Diego felt aroused. He'd never done a tiger. Nor had he ever done anything albino.