Carlyle Breckner, CEO of his investment bank, was the king of the concrete jungle. All kinds of bankers, stock traders, and just ordinary citizens knew his name. He had a boastful and loud personality, and was known to be a ruthless businessman when it came down to dealing with other businesses and corporations. His grandeur stride and sheer height was intimidating to any one person or group of people that opposed him, and that opposition was quickly shut down by Carlyle’s immediate show of power and strength, to no avail. And Carlyle’s clothing choice had a similar presence in his appearance; only the most expensive and exotic suits and shoes for the man, to match his individualized and independent lifestyle. DING DING went the bell to signal the end of the typical 9 to 5 work day for his employees, and of course, also signaling the end of the day for the one, the only, the revered Carlyle Breckner.

Walking down the marble-filled hallways of his bank, through the golden revolving doors, and down the magnificent concrete steps that lay in front of his immaculate building, Mr. Breckner took a brief respite to admire his creation. The meticulously crafted exterior of the building was equally just as opulent on the interior, parallel to what Carlyle portrays in himself, inside and out. He took note of the hand-polished marble columns that ran along the front side of the bank, like giant monolithic statues watching over the fertile land below, and that fertile land, for the past 30 years, has produced loans and provided all people of the earth with equal opportunity to invest however they choose, as Carlyle watched from above, always in control. Following the outline of the building across the front of it, Carlyle explicitly took note of the bronze statue of a lion, a daily routine in which he has commenced in doing ever since he opened the bank, 30 years ago. Mouth wide open, and the thick and large teeth glistening in the soft and welcoming summertime sunlight, this statue represented how Carlyle runs his successful corporation, with much control and menacing demeanor, that strikes fear into the souls of his competition, to no avail.

Every single work day at Carlyle Breckner Investment Bank, all the intricate little parts of the bank work perfectly in time with each other, so that every time the employees step into the building they are as efficient and productive as humanly possible. Scurrying around the building like antelope chased by a cheetah in an open field, all the workers have a significant amount of purpose, hurrying to complete a task to please their CEO. And all workers are aware of the detrimental effect it would have on their job if they were to step out of line. Carlyle runs a very tight ship, and not following all of his direct orders, will instantly result in a loss of an employee’s job; there is no room for error, as Carlyle would rip them to shreds, as if they were a tender piece of meat.

It was finally the end of the week, the end of another busy, event filled week, and Carlyle needed a break from the hustle and bustle of his rambunctious company. So he and some of his close friends decided to go out for dinner that Friday night. As always, Carlyle chose his favorite restaurant in all of Manhattan, Johnston’s Steakhouse. It was a fancy establishment in which the upper crust of today’s society would spend $90 on a perfectly seared and juicy piece of meat. The immensely tasteful aroma of the steaks and ribs being cooked to perfection was so very stimulating for Carlyle. He somewhat even had an emotional attachment to that most familiar smell of the steak being seared in the pan, with its sweet and flavorful sauté that wrapped ever so comfortably around that piece of meat, like a tender lion would hug and cuddle with its cubs.  

        Carlyle and his friends all enjoyed that dinner. During it they discussed many things pertaining to business, politics, or their continuously increasing amount of fame, wealth, and infatuation of themselves, to which Mr. Breckner felt the need to express his large egotistical opinion on how amazing of a person he is, how he protects all of his workers and watches them all with a close eye and an iron fist. But this conversation was short lived by Carlyle, considering that every time a well-dressed waiter would walk by carrying a glorious piece of steak, ribs, or pork, he would feel the need to deeply inhale the thick smell of the meat. His infatuation with the meats had caught the eye of another table, to which Carlyle has been staring at for the past 20 seconds, mulling over the immaculate New York Strip Steak that lay before the man on his plate, untouched. “Can I help you?” asked the man at the table, quite cross with Carlyle’s obsessive stare towards the man’s plate. “Hello? Sir?”

        “Oh, um, I’m sorry. I truly do apologize.” said Carlyle, who was just as confused as the other man was.

        “Can you please mind your own business and let me enjoy my meat?” aggressively stated the man. “You have interrupted my quaint and serene dinner with my wife now please stop.”

        “NO I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE!” roared Carlyle. The restaurant fell silent. His voice echoed through the entire restaurant, out the front doors, and into the street. All eyes were now on him, person after person just gave him the most blank and horrified stare, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car, in which Carlyle was the ever-so intimidating car that blasted towards the deer.

        “Clearly some people in this world only know how to behave like uncivilized animals.” interjected the man through the thick wall of silence that still lay over the restaurant.

        “Excuse me, I must leave at once, I’ve caused too much of a commotion”

        “Yes you have,” rudely agreed the man. Carlyle, completely flustered and embarrassed beyond belief, sulking, put his head down and walked tenaciously out of the restaurant, to be shamed by the jungle of people that glued their non-sympathetic eyes to the upset Carlyle as he left the establishment. He gripped the door handle, but his hand was massive; it encompassed the whole entire door knob, and his fingers grew thick, like a paw. This truly confused Carlyle as his large trotting footsteps stumbled out of the restaurant. His alligator leather shoes felt tight, as did his exotic shirt that he wore. Confused even further, he slowly makes his way over to his limo where he could finally rest and avoid any contact with outside individuals, due to his recent embarrassment at the restaurant.

Getting into the limo, he struggles a bit, due to his increased height and weight. The opulent interior creates a perfect relaxing aesthetic for him to rest and relax. But in his head he felt the need to go back and attack that man who had done him wrong by calling him out in the middle of the restaurant. It felt right to retaliate; it almost felt instinctual that he needed to do this. He aggressively ripped off his shirt in the back of that limo and let out a humongous roar at the chauffeur. “STOP THE CAR AND LET ME OUT NOW!” demanded Carlyle.

“Um yeah…sure thing sir,” said the driver, horrified by Carlyle’s sudden hostility. Carlyle rips open the door of the limousine and lets out his mighty roar and jumps onto all fours. His hair grew from his head around his face, and his whiskers became more visible now. On his magnificent paws, there were sharp claws that gripped the ground very tight. He ran up the street, increasing in speed with each passing moment. Men veered out of the way and women screamed. It was a horrific sight to see the beast that was Carlyle run barreling down the street towards the restaurant.

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