Sunday, October 04, 2009


Longevity lasts a lot longer if you belong to a member of a wild animal family. Elephants, especially. A hundred years or more is genetically expected for offsprings of Mr. and Mrs. Pat C. Derm who wore no pants when they romanced, making baby elephants.

The Derms were a healthy lot, living on plants and such. And “as such” they ate too much and over eating fauses carting and when gas passes with the breeze all the monkeys in the trees and the other jungle folk knew the Derms, sans underwear, were on a baby making tear.

To make a short story long, because this happened a long time before this rhyme was composed, baby El[y was born and quickly rose to fame and shame. She grew to be ten feet tall and ten feet wide with a belly always wanting more which put quite a drain on the Congo Wal-mart store of yore.

Elly, the biggeset elephnt in history, ten feet wide was known by all as Poohpooh, abbreviated to plain PP. She smelled like hell and the animals knew when she was in the vicinity, thanks to the jungle winds blowing west to east into the nostrils of every beast except the skunk who stunk worse than poor PP.

PP was afflicted with B. O. and the only way to cleanse her odoriferous body and slim down her obesity was for her to soak twenty four hours a day in a one thousand gallon tub of sea water and monkey pee, munching on low cal seaweed to satisfy her need for jungle greens and jelly beans.

It was estimated PP, already a hundred and one, could live much longer if she were free of African maladie like Peanulitis, Arfricolitis, Monkeyshinology and Tarzanism. Publications of the Witch doctors Journal of the African Medical Asociation under the classification.

PP wanted a second opinion before she soaked in seapeewater. She went to see Dr. Bwanna Bananna who explained why she stunk so bad.

“It’s obvious that, because you’re so fat, all that junk stuck in your trunk, waiting in line to get to your behind, has to pass through the digestive tract, which is so congested . By the time it gets to the bowels it’s not fit to she bit. It piles up in the Isle of Piles where it waits to defecate. Eventually, it’s transferred to Port of Last Resorts, reserved for fat trunk clunkers.

When it flows out of the hass ole it smells worse than fit that sits the shan. So now you knoiw. If you don’t lose weight you’ve got a date with the garbage can.”

PP told the doc the Life Buoy sits bath was doing what it was supposed to do, but the store had no more, that it was
against the law to pee in the sea and her big sits bath had sprung a leak. So what was she to do?

With that the doc opened up his safe and to PP’s joy, there were stacks and stacks of Life Buoy soap, shelves of 20 gallon jars filled with monkey pee and enough plugs to seal a hundred sits bath leaks for weeks.

“Have I got a deal for you.” Doc said. “I smelled you coming from ten miles away so quick as a flash I gathered my cash, made a dash for the Life Buoy stash and bought up the last of the soap you hoped to buy to get rid of the stink; and I think I was right;

“If you can’t cope, I’m your last hope and I’ve got the soap, but it’s not for sale. Here’s my deaI: I’ll trade you my soap for the ivory on your head; I’m not talking soap. I’m talking tusks. I’ll throw in the pee and do the sits bath repair free. And I’ll cut off the tusks for a nominal fee, I gotta charge a fee. Ethics, you see.

“But if you need more pee, PP, I’ve got an inexhaustible source, Me of course.. All my monkey patients have badder bladders disease and I charge them a penny a pint to dispose it. I suppose it will benefit you more than the Wal-mart store, As the saying goes, go with the flow. They pay me a penny, you pay me a dime and over time monkey pee will save our economy.”

Doc held out his hand. Pee Pee held out her trunk. They shook and the deal was done.

Pee Pee felt bad. She knew she had been had. But what else could she do? She’d miss her tusks but not her hell of a smell.


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