elephant massacre

Friday, December 19, 2014

Don’t you hate it when you are ordering some delicious tortellini from the cafeteria at work, and the woman next to you looks at your food out of the corner of her eye, and when the cafeteria worker asks her if she wants some pasta too and she looks at your plate and says, “Oh no, it’s so HEAVY” and then you look down at your arms and you realize they are not regular human arms but giant wrinkly elephant arms, because you are a giant elephant girl, eating your tortellini and weighing an average of two tons and barely fitting into your office where you type your Excel spreadsheets as you eat your immensely dense lunch and as you are about to slink away to pay for your elephant lady meal (or slink as well as you can slink when you are the largest existing land mammal) the woman follows up her comment by saying, “I’m trying to eat HEALTHY” and you look down again and realize that not only are you an elephant person, but you are also DEATHLY ILL, your veins and organs so filled with creamy tortellini that your bodily functions are grinding to a halt, your massive trunk like a lead weight, your large placid eyes clouding over with a delicious cheese sauce, and you know you must find the ancient elephant graveyard of your ancestors before it is too late, in order to return your weary fat-coated skeleton to the earth, but you have only the vaguest instinctual memory of its location, and when you try to Google it on your phone your huge flat pie pan foot accidentally smashes the screen, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because your brain is so packed with spring vegetables smothered in Parmesan that the only word you can think now is “tortellini, tortellini, tortellini” and then you die right there in the cafeteria in front of the hot foods section? That is the worst.