Mr. Elephant the giraffe looked on in dismay as his friend Mr. Giraffe the elephant was on the sauce again. It didn’t exactly helped that their names didn’t relate to their species but it was a cold hard fact of life that they had to deal with it. A big fat grey lump of an abomination leaned against the old oak on top of the twirly pasta hill snorkeling some rich cider with his trunk.
‘Life isn’t fair!’ said Mr. Giraffe as he burped out a large mass of apple bubbles. ‘All I want in life is a fine figure to impress Miss. Cat, a cosy apartment in Brooklyn and a million dollars. Is that too much to ask?’
‘Now now Mr. Giraffe, there is no use sulking in the pits of alcoholism. And you must understand you and Miss. Cat just wouldn’t work, she is after all a hamster and … well… you know, it just isn’t meant to be. You can do far better than that anyway.’ Mr. Elephant coolly replied as he put one of his legs over Mr. Giraffe’s bulky shoulder. He was a spherical giraffe with a hundred foot neck, he had Mr. Giraffe’s best interests at hand.
‘Yeah… but, she, she’s so…’
‘I admit She’s So is a great jazz piece by the beautifully amazing music group Royksopp but you can’t compare your life with music! Look, Miss. Rabies the white elephant would love to read your bad poetry sometime, think of what is on offer rather than what isn’t. And I am going to cheer you up, I have something to show you!’
‘A million dollars?’
‘Oh no no no no no, something far better than that. I shall roll down this hill with my ball-shaped body and fly up the ramp into the sky like a glorious giraffe firework! ‘ without further ado, Mr. Elephant launched himself off the hill, his neck wrapping round his body ten times to be tucked in, and he rolled. Flying high is the bulletproof method of cheering up an elephant suffering from manic depression was what Mr. Elephant thought as his body brushed the grass aside as he hurtled down towards the large ramp. He reached the tip and flew high up into the sky, close enough to touch the clouds. Unravelling himself in the air he peered down upon Mr. Giraffe.
Mr. Giraffe wasn’t smiling as Mr. Elephant fell to the floor in a parade of crunches and legs breaking apart. He knew this was it for his friend and he didn’t find flying giraffes particularly funny. He idly watched the mess of broken giraffe slide down the hill as he sipped his cider and sighed. Life was a funny old thing.
