TOP CAT

Brishti Chakraborty

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When I was twelve, my drama teacher told me I need to work on reacting. You are always thinking about what you're about to do, he said, and you're ignoring everything everyone else does. This is a give and take. Fuck that, I thought. I never give. I'm a mountain lion, I thought. Did you know they don't roar? Still fucking deadly, though, you have to give them that. Anyway, I started looking at my castmates more, after that. Not that it helped. I'm pretty spine-chilling; remember, I'm a mountain lion. I broke my bones three times before I turned twelve, and for a while I didn't know if that was badass or embarrassing. Not many large deadly cats that do that, I'll tell you right now. I bet you if a mountain lion was a two year old girl, though, she'd go down a slide headfirst too. So I'm leaning on the side of badass. I do that all the time—can't be embarrassed if you decide it's not embarrassing, right? Right. Who's got a harmful set of priorities and two middle fingers? I haven't taken a breath that didn't hurt on the way down in two months, but that comes with the territory. It's not very easy stalking between peaks looking for deer, but hell if I don't do it well. I never close my eyes and I never sit down; can't give up on the hunt, baby. I'm the best. Top dog. Top cat. Either way, I'm on top. And I never look down. Never look at the opposition. I act and I don't react, motherfucker, did you get that. Did you fucking get that. Because I'm still waiting on the teeth.