Have you seen the movie Life of Pi? It was based on the allegorical novel by Yann Martel, and tells the story of a 16-year-old Indian boy stranded on a lifeboat for 227 days with a Bengal tiger. You might be thinking that’s an awfully long time to survive in a confined space with a bloodthirsty animal, but then you would be forgetting Bengal tigers are totally incapable of climbing onto stretched canvas. Seriously. The kid cowers on top of a canvas tarp and the tiger is unable to climb up onto it and get him. His little tiger claws just can’t get any purchase! He’s the worst tiger ever! Can you use your hind legs and jump, you little bitch? God dammit!
So this movie won four Oscars, including Best Director, and grossed about $125 million dollars in the US alone. Now, I’m not saying it wasn’t fun to watch — hell, I could even hang with all the symbolism, religious messages and the notion of truth as a relative term — I guess I just wasn’t terribly moved by it. But my wife and I both agreed it was more fun than watching paint dry! That’s generous of us, right?
I believe my wife summarized our attitude best, after Pi’s miniature raft was lost, forcing him to return to the lifeboat with the tiger:
“I think his little boaty-floaty went away… with all the life wests.”*
*That would be life ‘vests,’ pronounced with my wife’s adorable German accent.
If you would like to read another Denglish post, check this one out: My German Wife Reveals Her Maternal Intentions with a Single, Horrifying Question