Aw. Aren’t you adorable.
“I am, totally. Come over here.”
“Yeah, come on. Little bit closer, fucko.”
Are you another dead famous animal?
Right. Wow. 2016 is getting all the toothpaste out of the tube.
“It’s been a weird ride, huh?”
You’re telling me, Pan Pan. Sorry you’re dead.
“Eh. I was 31. That’s, like, a billion in panda-years.”
Are panda-years like dog-years?
“Yeah, but you multiply by three. And you do it on an abacus.”
Sure. What are you going to miss the most?
That makes sense.
“Oh my GOD did I love bamboo. I could literally eat nothing but.”
You did eat nothing but.
“Sometimes a leaf or a bug got in my mouth by accident. Mostly, though? Sweet, sweet bamboo.”
You know that humans build houses from bamboo, right? It’s not in the “food” category; it’s in the “wood” category.
“Hey, more for me.”
There are no nutrients in bamboo!
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong: there are a tiny amount of nutrients. And here’s the thing: bamboo grows like a weed and doesn’t run away. Enormous and uncontested source of calories. You’re looking at life from the perspective of an omnivore. Pandas are monovores; we adapted to the menu, not the other way around.”
What does bamboo taste like?
“A tree made out of chicken.”
Sure. But my point is that you have to spend almost your entire waking life eating stalk after stalk of bamboo.
“We keep having this same conversation. Humans consume 2,000 calories a day, right?”
That is optimal, yes.
“You don’t migrate to your feeding grounds for four months and then not eat again for the rest of the year?”
“Ever double your body weight over the summer and then go to sleep for six months?”
I have not.
I could not.
“Okay, okay. You said that humans should get 2,000 calories a day.”
That’s a general number, and might be nonsense like the eight glasses of water a day thing. But, yeah: 2,000 calories a day.
“So you could eat a 14,000 calorie meal on Sunday night and then fast for the rest of the week?
Both clauses of that sentence would kill a human being.
“Lions seem fine with it.”
When it comes to biology, the human method of survival is not to be seen as the default, just one among many strategies evolved by species with different needs, surroundings, and physiology.
“There you go.”
I learned something here, Pan Pan.
“Awesome. That’s why pandas were put on the planet. To help people.”
“I hate humans so fucking much.”
That makes more sense.
“I was born in the wild, y’know.”
You’re safer this way.
“Safe from whom?”
“You know the answer. Safe from whom?”
“There you go. I’m a bear, asshole. I only have one natural predator, and it’s you. You are protecting me from you.”
A little, yeah.
“Do you fuckers even realize how weird you are?”
Not really. Sometimes novelists will point it out, but we ignore them.
Yeah. Was it a good life, Pan Pan?
“I got my fuck on.”
I don’t need to see this.
“WATCH ME FUCK, FUCKO. You murdered my entire species, so now I want you to look me in the eyes while I cum.”
“YEEEEAHHH. YEAH. Yeeeeeaaahhhh. Yeah. Okay, nice. Thank you, sweetie. Money’s on the dresser.”
I hate you, Pan Pan.
“Back atcha, asshole.”
Say hi to Harambe.
*Other pandas, having led lives of sin, go to Hell.