#pamba

Tarzan’s Ape-English Dictionary pamba to por-atan

The Pamba is a cryptid purported to live in Lake Tanganyika in Tanzania. It has been described as a giant fish with a mouth so large it can swallow a boat and its crew whole.

While Lake Tanganyika is large enough to sustain such a creature, some have suggested that Pamba is nothing more than a Tanganyika lates, which can grow up to six feet in length.

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Monster master list.

@simba-lyons

Soon as Paul had the number for Simba in his hand and had stepped out of Perdita’s flat, he rang up the bloke. Didn’t waste time. Didn’t think too much about it. If he did, he would have probably ended up throwing his phone against the wall, getting a kind of sick glee at the sound of it cracking apart. 

Instead, Paul took all the jealousy he felt toward a man he’d never met and put it somewhere else. Paul couldn’t tell you where he put it. He felt like a bloody robot though, punching in the numbers that he gleaned off the slip of stationary Perdita had given him. Every time a thought bubbled up, he popped it. 

He told himself it didn’t matter if Simba was fucking his ex-girlfriend. He could fuck her all he wanted. Paul was done with her. 

He told himself it didn’t matter if the babies thought that Simba was their father. Paul would prove this wasn’t true. They’d forget-- just as they forgot Paul, they’d forget this Simba. 

He told himself that it didn’t matter if Simba thought he was their father. A punch in the face would fix th--

No. He destroyed that. It didn’t matter. 

What he felt toward Simba was nothing, just as he felt nothing toward Perdita. And when he put the phone up to his ear, he imagined that he was just meeting up with a bloke for a pint. He smiled into the phone as the man picked up, ignoring the red-hot pain in his chest. Paul wouldn’t let it break through.

“Hey, Simba, yeah? This is Paul Patts-- Penny and Patrick’s dad? I got your number from Perdita,” he said, cheerful and nonplussed. “I believe you’re with my kids right now? Mind if I swing by and pick ‘em up?” 

Even over the phone, Simba’s response crackled with hesitation. Maybe Paul was paranoid, but he doubted it. 

He told himself: It didn’t matter what fucked-up lies Perdy told him. I won’t be that man. I won’t be angry. I won’t be someone to be scared of. 

“Pixie, right?” he continued. Paul was already walking toward the elevator. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You can call Perdita to confirm, if you want.” Promise I’m not some serial killer-- yet. Paul kept that very, very bad joke to himself. Maybe once he and this Simba were mates, he could crack that kind of shit. 

Haha. Mates. 

He hung up and shoved his phone away. He took deep breaths as he exited the elevator. He kept his mind blank as he left the hotel. Eyes forward, chin up, he reminded himself of his mission. He’d be charming. He’d be pleasant. If Simba asked him what happened with Perdita--

His mind went blank, not able to write a story for that yet. He didn’t know what he’d say. Maybe he’d take the blame, just take all of it, just say they broke up and he felt guilty, being so far from his kids. 

Something like that. 

Paul got to Pixie fast. He entered the club, which was empty this early in the morning. Paul cleared his throat a little so he wouldn’t surprise him, as he looked around the club for a moment, having none of the mystery and lust when sleepy and empty like this. Paul crossed to the offices and rapped on the ajar door with his knuckles, pushing it open a little with the toe of his shoe. 

“Simba?” he said and looked at the face of the man who was stealing his life. 

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