A master stone mason, nicknamed Stone-eyes, was sent to a certain leopard called Leonard.
“Scuse me, honourable Leonard of the King's Menagerie,” began Stone-eyes, “I have been sent to carve your likeness. However, I am a mason and can only work from stills. You must submit to keeping still until I have carved you in relief. It is the king's will”.
“Don't give me that kings will hogswill!” growled Leonard. "And forget relief. What Kingy wants is a fine free-standing sculpture; so he should have sent a sculptor not a mere mason. But I'll tell you what”, said Leonard, scratching his ear with a back foot, then suddenly lashing his patchy tail. “What say we have some fun and I will make a sculptor out of you?”
Stone-eyes blinked a bit. Truth was he was considerably in awe of Leonard, already, and since the leopard had somehow gotten out of his cage and cut off all retreat, he thought it best to gulp and assent.
“OK, my man,” Leonard purred, and handed Stone-eyes a fat joint. “It's a little cocktail of pharmaceuticals to turn a mason into a sculptor. I do that magic thang.”
Well, Stone-eyes got well and truly stoned. Everything was beautiful, especially Leonard. What a fine animal he was indeed. Leonard was exceptional at telling stories and jokes and even sad tales. He was so sympatique and soon had Stone-eyes talking, about anything and everything, even about his club-footed niece. Then they shot some basketball, and there was Leonard with his tricks and bounces, his rangy muscle knotting and chording and flexing and relaxing. But suddenly Leonard turned on Stone-eyes, spun him round and down and mauled him a little, scratched him here and there too, until, as suddenly as he began, he stopped.
“There you go, my man,” Leonard declared. “The work is complete.” He sat back on his haunches, paring his nails and licking his paws.
Having been released, Stone-eyes ran like a mad thing for a few wings of the palace, then, recalling where he was, he stopped, cried a little while and rubbed his eyes. He returned, walking rather erratically but following the quickest way to his apartments, and, after carefully washing his scratches clean, went quietly to bed in his somewhat tattered clothes.
In the morning, he leaped out of bed, downed a pint of water, had a quick coughing fit, snatched a few more gulps of water, grabbed his chisels and began to chip at the large uncut block in the centre of his studio. For several days he ordered vittles into his room but allowed no one else to get past him at the door, not even when the king sent a trusted servant to enquire about the work.
The finished sculpture was the wonder of the kingdom. And the king made quite a bit of money charging folk to see it (with discount for serfs etc.) Leonard it was, unmistakably, holding in one paw a large joint and twirling a basketball in the other. The musculature was so fine and realistic but people admired most the teeth and the claws of him.
