The lion, full and drowsy and proud, lay in the sun and did not roar--"Let another lion roar," he muttered. "I’m not in the mood."

A hyena, emboldened by the lion’s silence, gradually approached him. The lion did not look up--"I know the hyena’s there," he shrugged. "And it knows I’m here. Why should I bother lifting my head?"

The hyena, tempted by the lion’s stillness, came closer yet and sunk its teeth into the gazelle carcass at the lion’s side.

The lion opened his eyes slightly and sleepily whispered, "What do you think you’re doing?"

The sound startled the hyena but, after a moment’s consideration, it concluded that the noise had only been a breeze rustling some leaves. No lion would speak so quietly. Besides, this lion was certainly asleep. The hyena tore a hunk of meat from the gazelle’s hindquarters.

The lion sighed and rolled his eyes. He rose and grabbed the hyena by the scruff of its neck and shook it. The surprised hyena whimpered and struggled until the lion, satisfied that his point was understood, released it and watched it skulk away across the grass.

"Was that really necessary?" the lion grumbled at the sky. "Isn’t it clear that I’m a lion? Do I have to demonstrate it over and over? Can’t I rest once in a while after a good meal?"

Then the lion lay down again and draped a paw over his gazelle. He dozed fitfully, forcing himself awake every ten minutes or so to stand and roar.