my next toastmasters speech.
Thank you, Madam Toastmaster.
Once upon a time there was a silly sausage called Simon who wanted to become a lion tamer. Growing up, he dreamt of being in charge of these belligerent beasts in front of a captivated crowd. Using only his voice, a whip, and a stool to control those crazy creatures.
This dream of his began when he was just a little chipolata during his first trip to the circus. Even today, if Simon closed his eyes, he could still relive that day. The bustling and hustling of the crowd. Getting knocked from side to side as he made his way to the seats. The cheering and laughing from the audience as the clowns showcased their polished performances. Fitting into a tiny car, or juggling tables whilst riding a unicycle on a wire.
All that paled into comparison when the lion tamer came out with just a whip and a stool. Simon sat transfixed as he watched this man walk on to the stage. Then, with only a flick of the wrist and a few words the magic began. Simon watched this tenacious tamer control these ferocious lions like they were just a bunch of kittens. Treating them not as the kings of the jungle but as pampered pets. From that moment on, Simon knew what he wanted, no what he needed to do in his life.
That day at the circus awoke something in Simon. A desire, a dream, a duty to become a lion tamer. Every waking second, and every dramatic dream of his life was devoted to this goal. He practiced his lion taming skills whenever and wherever he could. At school, at home, and even at the local ice skating rink. Where he would often skate and crack his whip to the tinny tunes of some cheesy 90’s pop songs. That was until he was banned for scaring away the customers.
That didn’t matter. Simon just moved onto his next goal: going to lion taming school. He saved up his pocket money so that he could attend a summer school in Berlin. Pinching and scrimping each cent like he was Ebenezer Scrooge. But, that goal came to a halt for Simon when the summer school shut down due to claims of fraud. Still, that dream of his to become a lion tamer burnt brightly in his heart. A burning that actually turned out to be indigestion.
However, Simon had a problem. There were no lions on the Gold Coast. Which was quite the obstacle for someone who was looking to become a lion tamer. So, being a resourceful sort of sausage, he decided to look for the next best thing: a dog.
One day, waking up bright and early, Simon went outside and started looking for a canine. Up and down the suburban streets he walked. Ignoring the cawing of the crows and the sun trying to barbeque his neck. His eyes scanning for any panting pooches. But he could only see the leaves fluttering around on the road and hear the roar of the cars racing by him.
Simon decided that since the suburbs weren’t bringing him much joy, that he would try his luck at the park. So, with renewed vigour, he made his way down the road. After a few minutes he came across the sight of swings swaying in the summer breeze, and the sound of magpies’ dive bombing cyclists in the distance. But, there were no dogs.
Simon was just about to give up when up ahead he spotted a small white fluffy dog. All alone and sniffing some broken tree branches. Simon knew that this was his moment. Sure, this wasn’t a lion. It wasn’t even a German Shepard. But this sausage wasn’t going to be put off by such mere obstacles. He strolled towards the pampered pooch. Clutching his whip in one hand and his stool in the other hand. Finally, after years of toiling he was on hi way to become a lion tamer. That dream was about to turn into reality.
Simon was only metres away when the dog looked up, bounded over and gobbled him up in two simple bites.
And that is the story of how Simon the silly sausage, lived, and died out his dream to become a lion tamer.
That concludes my speech, Madam Toastmaster.