Scar: A Lion King Story

Slowly, I creep up on it. I take a step forward and it stops, its nose wiggling and its ears listening quietly in every direction.

One… I count to myself.

Two…

Three!

I pounce and capture its long tail in my paw. I pick it up slowly.

“Life’s not fair,” I say. “You see, I — well, I shall never be king.” I let the mouse run across my paw. “And you, well, you shall never see the light of another day,” I tell it menacingly, as I capture it’s tail once again.

I hold it, looking directly into its eyes.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?” says an annoyingly high pitched voice that could only belong to Zazu.

I roll my eyes and make sure the mouse is trapped between my paw and the ground.

Sighing, I blandly ask, “What do you want?”

“I’m here to announce that King Mufasa’s on his way,” he chirpily tells me taking a small bow. “So you better have a good excuse for missing the ceremony this morning.”

Since I was so focused on Zazu, I didn’t feel the movement under my paw. Looking down, I see that pesky mouse scurrying away as fast as his little legs would take him.

“Now look, Zazu,” I say, “You made me lose my lunch.”

“Ha!” Zazu replies, taking a step closer. “You’ll lose more than that when the king gets through with you.” He crosses his dark blue colored wings in front of him, “He’s as mad as a hippo with a hernia.”

“Ouuuhhhh.” I mock him. “I quiver with fear.”

I start to slowly step closer to him, making it seem like I want to eat him.

“Now Scar, don’t look at me that way!” he says quickly, taking a step back with each word.

I let out another growl, trying not to laugh. Zazu gets ready to take off.

“HEEEEELP!!” he screams in the air, just as I turn and gently chomp down on him.

I hear him saying something, but since he’s in my mouth it just sounds like a load of mumbles.

“Scar, drop him,” Mufasa says calmly.

Zazu sticks just his beak out of my mouth, the bright orange creating a bright contrast against my dark, yellow skin.

“Impeccable timing, your majesty,” Zazu says.

I glare at my older brother and spit Zazu out. He ruined my fun. Zazu looks at himself covered in my spit and lets out a small whimper.

My voice dripping with sarcasm, I say, “Why, if it isn’t my big brother descending from on high to mingle with us commoners.”

I turn away from him.

“Surabhi and I didn’t see you at the presentation of Simba,” Mufasa says in a calm, deep voice.

I knew that was today, Mufasa was insane if he thought I would actually show up to that. Simba stole my place as king, I was going to fix the pride lands, I had a plan. He took it from me. I was going to create an alliance with the hyenas. I was going to reduce wars and increase the speed at which we can find food, but Simba ruined it.

“That was today?” I say in a dramatic tone, “Ohhh, I feel simply awful.”

I stand up on my hind legs and scratch my nails all the way from the top to the bottom of the cave wall, imitating the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Zazu makes a face, not liking the sound and hides between Mufasa’s legs. Mufasa looks unimpressed.

I examine my newly sharpened nails.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” I say.

Zazu flies toward my face. “Well as slippery as your mind is, the king’s brother should’ve been first in line!”

I chomp down, and Zazu darts back toward Mufasa.

Brother or not, he’s the reason I will never be king.

“Well, I was first in line until the little hairball was born.”

“That hairball is my son and your future king,” Mufasa said, glaring at me.

“I shall practice my curtsy,” I say, turning away and walking toward the watering hole.

“Don’t turn your back on me, Scar,” Mufasa says firmly.

I turn my head back just enough to look at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t turn your back on me,” I say.

I hear an angry growl and Mufasa comes running in front of me, blocking my way. Still growling, might I add.

“Is that a challenge?!” Mufasa growls angrily, showing his teeth.

I chuckle. “Temper temper, I wouldn’t dream of challenging you,” I say with an eye roll.

“Pity.” Zazu says, “Why not?”

He puts his wings on his hips, in a childish pout.

I try not to roll my eyes at this annoying dweeb. I bend down to his level and look at him from behind Mufasa’s legs.

“Well as far as brains go, I got the lion’s share,” I say. “But when it comes to brute strength, I’m afraid I’m at the shallow end of the gene pool.”

I walk away, done with the conversation. I cannot tell Mufasa about my plan. Mufasa has always held a grudge against the hyenas. He never stops to listen to how much this alliance could benefit the Pride Lands. There’s no point, and it’s hopeless. Now that I will never be king.