Monday, December 25, 2006

The Christmas Elephant

Gather round, my children, and you shall hear the story of the Christmas Elephant...

It seems that something very special is whisking its way to the lab at this very moment. Yes, in a story made for Lifetime Television, a dead elephant in a dump truck will soon arrive on the very steps- nay, welcome mat- of the local veterinary facility.

Now, according to the rumors circulating, this is not just any elephant, but a very special Christmas Pachyderm. This sweet thing, which loved its mother and listened for reindeer hooves and sold its' gold watch to buy its gigantic Elephant friend an ivory hair piece, is not only large and dead, but also (as the rumors go), potentially TB positive. Everyone's Christmas needs a tuberculosis-ridden elephant, no? Thats the lovely thing about rumors- any way you spin them, they're hilarious.

This begs the question, of course, what one could use to lift a dead elephant. Or, for that matter, where one puts the Christmas Elephant upon delivery. The last time such a miraculous event occurred, it took 10 vets just to manage the thing- but where to find 10 vets on Christmas morning? Elephant-size freezers are not a commonly available commodity. It is cold in the evenings, but one can hardly imagine PETA letting a dead-elephant doorstop go by without some truly vociferous protests.

You can imagine my glee at calling The Boy, who is out of cell reception visiting his parents, to leave the following message:

"Hi! Merry Christmas! Its me. I know you can't answer your phone right now, but I wanted to tell you about the Very Special Gift which is waiting for you when you get home. By now, when you're listening to this message, you're already an hour into your drive, so you can't very well turn back now. There's a giant dead elephant waiting for you! I think it has rabies or the plague or something. Anyway, the guy on the phone said last time around it took 10 vets just to handle the thing. Oh, and its probably on the floor for its necropsy- no one can get the thing hoisted onto a table."

Best Christmas present ever. Who needs a baby Jesus when you've got a dead pachyderm in a dump truck?


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson