Hey, giraffe. Whatcha doing?

“Eating, being tall.”

You’re good at that.

“That’s it, though. Everything else is a mess. Ever seen one of us run?”


“Like an epileptic falling down the stairs. How about drinking?”

Yeah, that’s awkward.

“Right? The legs splayed out? It’s goddamned humiliating. Hyenas laugh at us.”

Hyenas laugh at everything.

“Sure, but they also do impressions.”

Oh, that’s rough.

“And the fighting. Oh, God, the fighting. Ever seen a pair of tigers go at it?”

Scary. Powerful, but graceful.

“Exactly. What about bighorn rams?”

That is some cool shit.

“So cool. And what do we do?”

You whip your heads back and forth.

“We whip our heads back and forth.”

It may be the least dignified fighting style in the animal kingdom.

“I KNOW. Wheeeee-TONK. Wheeeeee-TONK. It’s awful, man. We look like chumps.”

A little bit.

“Plus, it makes you really dizzy.”

Didn’t know that.

“Oh, yeah. Listen: if you have the option, be anything but a giraffe. Take the civil service exam, learn to dust crops, become a professional eater: anything’s better than this.”

You sound down.

“Even those of us in high places can be low.”

Wow. Very deep, giraffe.

“I wanted to be a lobster when I grew up, but you get what you get.”

I’m gonna go because you are depressing me.