A lion walked into a fancy little restaurant one evening, tail swishing confidently behind him. The hostess blinked twice but decided not to question it—after all, it looked like a well-behaved lion. He was seated at a table near the window and began studying the menu very seriously, like a true food critic.
After a few minutes, the waiter approached cautiously, trying his best to remain professional.
“Good evening, sir. What would you like to drink?” the waiter asked.
The lion looked up with a dignified nod. “A glass of the house wine, please.”
“Excellent choice, sir!” the waiter said, scribbling quickly on his notepad. “Might I recommend our salmon for the starter? It’s the chef’s specialty.”
The lion licked his lips. “Sounds delicious. I’ll have that.”
The waiter returned with the wine and later served the salmon. The lion ate politely, even using a napkin. A few diners stared, but the lion ignored them with royal confidence.
Soon the waiter returned again.
“And what can I get you for your main course, sir?” he asked.
The lion leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.
“Well,” he said calmly, “I think I’ll just have a comb.”
The waiter froze. “A… comb?”
“Yes,” said the lion. “A nice sturdy one.”
The waiter blinked in confusion. “Sir… I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
The lion sighed and pointed to his enormous mane.
“Look at this thing! I’ve just had salmon, wine, and half the restaurant staring at me. If I’m going to leave here looking like a respectable lion, I’d better fix my hair first.”
Then he leaned closer and whispered,
“Besides… if my mane looks good, I might come back tomorrow for the zebra.” 🦁
