Every day, a 70-year-old pensioner bought forty kilos of meat from her usual butcher. Small, hunched, and silent, she wore a worn coat and pulled a squeaky trolley. The butcher was puzzled—who could need so much meat? Rumors swirled: family, dogs, or even a secret restaurant.
Curiosity got the better of him. One evening, he followed her as she trudged through snow toward an abandoned factory. She disappeared inside, bags in tow, and emerged twenty minutes later empty-handed. The next day, the same routine. On the third, he peeked inside.
His jaw dropped. Four enormous lions sat behind cages, eyes gleaming, with bones and fresh beef scattered on the floor. In an armchair, the old woman whispered: “Easy, my darlings… soon your fight… people will come to watch.”
The butcher ran, calling police. Investigators discovered she was a former zoologist who had been secretly organizing illegal lion fights for wealthy spectators.