| “GAMES” A short story based on the WB Series, “Tarzan” By Kythera ***This story contains characters created by Edgar Rice Burroughs and is creation of Warner Brothers and the property of the Edgar Rice Burroughs Trust. I have created it strictly for my personnel amusement and the amusement of others on www.travisfimmelforum.com ***
He called himself Tarzan – white skin in the ape language he spoke. His ape mother, Kala, had given him that name. He had been very bonded to her. He was rudely taken out of that wild life style when his uncle, Richard Clayton, had him captured and brought to Los Angeles. Clayton was the head of Greystoke Industries and needed his nephew’s power of attorney to be able to take complete control of the company. Tarzan had escaped and now lived with Paul. He also had rooms in his aunt’s mansion but was not ready to live with her full time. Kathleen Clayton had received her lost nephew with open arms. She wanted to protect him from her brother Richard. There was a bond building between them. He had made great progress towards becoming a civilized man and in joining the human race. His speech pattern was formal, lacking idioms and slang; his social graces, like using utensils when eating instead of his hands, were improving daily; and his intellectual curiosity about everything he encountered kept Paul busy with explanations but help bring him towards his goal much faster. Fortunately, Paul had help from the Internet. He taught Tarzan how to type – more like two-finger hunt-n-peck -- and how to do a Google search. Tarzan found the Internet very engrossing. He had a virtual visit of practically every museum that was online, read books online via the Gutenberg Project, and even played video games. He was good at the games because of his quickness to move the joystick. He liked the ones that had car races or the flight simulator ones. Some day he had it in mind that he would actually drive a car and pilot a plane. Paul was not the only person that Tarzan had met in the jungle. He met Jane Porter on the same expedition that Paul had been in. She was the center of his life now. He loved her with every part of his being. She was his motivation for becoming civilized. He wanted so much please her and to be closer to her but she still had her own goals and did not want to commit to him completely. He knew he would win her. He was patient and would wait her out. He was being tutored by several teachers—language, history, the arts, social graces, etc. Paul and his friends supplemented with more practical day-to-day lessons – like getting around in the city, going to a restaurant, how to handle money, and going to football, baseball, and basketball games. The rowdiness of the crowds gave him an outlet to let off steam. He could hoop and holler with the best of them and no one really cared or thought it odd. But these games had no purpose to him. No food was caught. No enemy vanquished. Only a lot of running around with a ball to get it to the other side of the playing field. Now as he watched him, Paul knew that Tarzan was getting antsy. He had had enough lessons for the day. He was used to physical activity. He needed physical outlets. Paul provided them. He took him surfing, swimming, tennis, bicycling, roller blading, skiing, and even dirt biking! He was a natural athlete, observed carefully, mimicked well, and learned quickly. But it was time to integrate him in team sports so he’d learn how to play along with others. This was part of a socialization plan that Paul had formulated with Tarzan’s instructors and his Aunt Kathleen. Tarzan could not live in the sheltered environment he was functioning in now. He had to fit into the life-style of a corporate heir to wealth and power, to be able to navigate its social structure, and to be able to assume his rightful position in Greystoke Industries. This meant being in the public eye. He had to learn how to handle social situations and eventually the Press. So to get him started, Tarzan was learning how to play team sports with his circle of friends. The college “gang” held monthly football competitions between the guys and the gals. Jane Porter, Hazel Strong, and Nancy Drummond formed the women’s team while Paul, Cecil Rhodes, and William Canfield formed men’s. They took their game of touch football very seriously. At the end of the season, the winning team not only had bragging rights for the remainder of the term but had to buy dinner. Paul wanted Tarzan to get experience playing with them too. Tarzan would replace him on the team. “Now, Tarzan, the point of the game is to run the ball across the field to the other side where those goalposts are. That makes a score points,” Explained Cecil. “Why? There is no food there.” Replied the practical Tarzan. He knew only that play in the wild was serious business. The young practiced and honed their fighting and hunting skills at play. The pecking order in a tribe was established after mock fights during play. He knew this well because as a child he could not complete with his playmates who were much larger. He was always in the Omega group and suffered the discrimination that went with it. He rose to become an Alpha male once he found his father’s hunting knife and learned how to use it. After that along with his muscular physical growth, no ape or other animal in the jungle could vanquish him. So, he looked with confusion and some contempt at the concept of a game with no purpose other than to bring a ball to the other side of the playing field. Points meant nothing to him. But he was game to learn. At least he was out in the fresh air with his friends and most importantly with Jane. “Your 300 pound gorilla isn’t going to make a difference!” Jane taunted from the woman’s side of the field. “We’re going to win!’. Nancy and Hazel cheered and taunted too. They boasted of their skill and prowess. “He’s not so tough.” She continued. “We have skill and strategy behind us.” And she looked directly at Tarzan. Tarzan stared back in shock and disbelief. HIS Jane was calling him names and challenging him to this contest. “Don’t let her get to you,” said Paul. “We always talk like this. We don’t mean it. It’s just a way to pump up the adrenalin. Understand?” “If you do not mean to say those words, who do you?” “It’s just part of the game. We throw verbal challenges to each other. Now, here’s our game plan. Cecil will throw the ball to you. You’ll run it down the field to the other side. Jane will be on the other side trying to stop you any way she can so watch out for her.” “Do I let her block me?” Tarzan asked trying to get the jist of the game. “NO! You go through her any way you can. She’ll try to tackle you – throw you down. You might even have to bump her” Seeing he was skeptical. “I tell you what.” Said Paul. “I’ll play in this first game so you can see how it’s done.” He was thinking, ‘Jane cannot throw me down if I don’t want her to. I might hurt her if I run into her. But Paul wants me to learn this game so I’d better pay attention.’ Tarzan watched the game carefully. He saw how Paul ran across the field and the other women tried to stop him. Then he ran towards Jane who tackled him and they both fell down. Tarzan growled and was ready to go out on the field “save” Jane when he saw her get up and start pursuing Paul down the field. She succeeded in knocking the ball from him and started running in the other direction towards her goalpost. She had almost made it when William tackled her, dislodging the ball. He picked it up and ran it to the other post, scoring a point. The guys were ecstatic. Tarzan ran to Jane to make sure she was OK. She had scrapes on her legs but was otherwise fine. She rose and did not seem pleased to see him. “Get away!” She snapped at him. “You guys think you’re going to win. Well, we’ve just begun to fight.” She shouted to Paul and the others. “Go ahead. Put your 300 pound gorilla into play. We’ll out smart him any day! His all brawn and no brain,” she continued, spat at Tarzan’s feet and walked away. Tarzan was now really confused. Here was a dilemma that Tarzan had never faced before. He didn’t doubt his ability to score. Should he charge down the field and risk hurting Jane just to make it this thing called a point? Should he allow Jane to block him so she wouldn’t get mad at him? Either way he was in a no-win situation. Jane would be mad at him if he blocked her. The men would be mad at him if he failed to score. He didn’t like this game. He easily carried the ball and moved quickly towards the goalpost. Jane was in position to block him. He saw that if he tried to move right or left she was in front of him and a collision was unavoidable. He took the next best action. He jumped over her and made it to the goalpost. That way he didn’t have to run into her and possibly hurt her. He thought he had done the right thing. Jane, however, didn’t take that move too graciously. “That’s not fair! The rules don’t allow for that! You cheated!” she screamed at him. “Rules don’t say you can’t do it. Good job, Tarzan.” Called Cecil. “Well, if that’s how you guys are going to play, we can make up our own rules too,” she replied and stormed towards her team mates. “As you can see,” said Cecil to Tarzan, “Jane doesn’t like to loose.” “She is mad at me. I do not like that,” Tarzan replied. “Hey it’s only a game. She’ll get over it. You’ll see. Now keep you focus on winning. We men have to win or else the ladies will NEVER let us forget it!” said William. “They won once and lorded it over us for the entire term.” “Yeh, we men might win or lose but we stay friendly and usually don’t keep mentioning it but the women!! Boy, let them win and there’s no living with them! Then again, if they loose, they can be worse.” “So either way, we lose,” countered Tarzan. “Then the game is lost already. I don’t think I want to play this game.” “You have to finish what you started. You’ll get to like it when you play again.” Said Paul. Eventually, after a hard-fought battle, the men won with the advantage of Tarzan on their team. Jane wouldn’t speak to Tarzan for several days. He was miserable. Finally, he cornered her at school. Jane had had enough time to cool off by then. “Jane. Are you still mad at me? I only played the way I was shown. The game was to bring the ball to the other side and make points. I did that without hurting any one. Was I wrong to win?” he asked sincerely. “Oh, I’m not really mad at you,” she answered, “I’m mad at myself. I should have expected you to play that way. Well I guess I had it coming to me. You played very well, and, I might say, very carefully. I know you didn’t want to collide with me or any of us and cause any injuries. It was not wrong that you won. You earned it.” “I will not play that game again. It has no purpose,” he stated. He was glad she was talking to him and was no longer mad at him. “We’ll find a game that we both can enjoy without competing so much,” Jane said. “I know – tennis It will probably be even more pointless to you than touch football!.” And she laughed as she said it. “I know something better than a game. I want to learn how to drive a car,” he announced. “Can you show me?” “That’s a good idea. You need to have wheels in this city. But it’s a “guy” thing. Paul can teach you. He can show you about the motor and changing a tire – guy things. OK?” He was a little disappointed that she would not be his instructor but said OK. Paul was more than happy to comply with Tarzan’s request. But first, he had another idea. The LA Marathon was being run next weekend. He entered Tarzan’s name along with his own. He felt that Tarzan might be a good candidate to come close to winning. The experience of running with over 20,000 runners would be a good one. Tarzan was again reluctant to participate, because of the crowds and because it didn’t make sense to him. No one was chasing him. No game was to be killed at the end. The route on surface streets was in a wide circle! Another event that had no purpose. Paul gave him a purpose. The winner got a new car and money! Now that car was a good reason to run. That made sense to Tarzan. He would run. The weekend arrived and was uncommonly hot. The race was for 26.2 miles. The media covering the event went crazy. There was a “rabbit” who started the race at a faster pace than expected. He was supposed to wear himself out so that the elite runners could take over. But he was winning!!! Paul and Jane were very surprised. They knew he was good but not THAT good. They underestimated him. He came out of no where and kept up a pace that no other runner could sustain. And HE WON, timed at 2.05.12 – a record speed!!! He was mobbed by the press. They wanted to know who he was, where he trained, how he felt during the race, on and on. There was no bio on this guy. Tarzan was getting very anxious with all the people milling about him and making him the center of attention. He was growling under his breath. Only the fact that Jane and his friends formed a protective shield around him, kept him from losing control. Then, Kathleen stepped in to handle the media. She announced that he was John Clayton Jr., recently arrived from Africa about nine months ago where he grew up. “He likes to be called Tarzan. His parents are dead. It has taken him some time to adjust to the culture shock of Los Angeles. He’s lived in the jungle his entire life until now.” She said. “He will be taking his father’s place on the board of directors of Greystoke Industries very shortly. The money he won today will be donated to charity.” She ended the press conference as quickly as she could with a promise to issue a media packet on her nephew with photos and biographical information. Tarzan kept the car! He was now eager to learn how to drive. Paul obliged. Tarzan was a willing, motivated student. He had observed how Paul and Jane operated their cars. It was easy for him to mimic their technique. Paul explained about the engine, showed him how to change a tire, explained the workings of all of the gadgets on the console. They drove the mountain roads where traffic was slim to none. Tarzan learned how to drive forward, how to navigate curves – lots of them on Decker Canyon Road --, how to drive in reverse on a straight line, how to parallel park, and everything in between. Within a month of constant training, he was ready to take his driving test. The lines were long and the wait was at least two hours but finally he got to the front of the line. They took his photo. He passed his eye test with flying colors. He had excellent eye sight. The main driving test was in two parts – written and driving. The written part tested his knowledge of the driving laws and was multiple choice. Paul and Jane drilled him on how to find and select the best answer to a specific question – not necessarily the right answer. The maximum acceptable error rate to pass this part was 4 out of 50 questions. Tarzan made three errors, mostly because he didn’t really understand the question. Jane had coached him to take a guess when in doubt. He scored 95% on the driving test and didn’t make the testing agent nervous at all. He was so proud of himself. Still, he needed to restore his soul by getting back to nature. “Let me take you into the mountains. I found a little stream and a small lake. I think you will like it,” he said to Jane the next day after he got his temporary license. “Yes we need to celebrate your earning your driver’s license. That’s quite an achievement.!” She was so proud of him. She accepted his invitation gladly, rushed home to make a few sandwiches and pack some drinks and fruits. He drove his new car to the trail head and parked it in a shady spot. They hiked deep into the canyons of the Santa Monica transverse range of mountains. The day was sunny, cloudless, and clear. One of those picture-perfect days that only California could produce. They walked hand in hand with Tarzan carrying the picnic basket in one arm and holding Jane around her waste with his other. They arrived at their destination toward noon time. Jane spread a blanket on the soft ground and opened the basket to reveal all of the goodies within it. They chatted and laughed while they ate. When they finished, they swam in the little lake. They both felt the need to rest after swimming and lay down on the blanket. Tarzan rolled over to come close to Jane. He looked into her eyes to make sure she was pleased with his move. Jane saw the emotion in his face and knew what he wanted. She wanted him now. She pulled him down and kissed him passionately on the mouth. He responded. His hands gently searched her body. His lips started an exploration of her body her lips, her neck, her breasts, her abdomen. She made the same exploration on him. By now their clothes had been discarded as quickly as they could get out of them. Their emotions climaxed. They became one, exquisitely. It felt so right for both of them. He was the gentlest of lovers. All of her doubts melted away. She was his forever. The End
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