The Pink Elephant

The pink elephant sits quietly in the middle of the room, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

– Alright, this is ridiculous, I know you can see me, ok?


– I take up half the goddamn the room, I’m freakin’ pink, and I’m an elephant for chrissake, out of its natural habitat, like, what am I even doing here?! Look at me! I stand out like… well like a goddamn pink elephant in a room!

Still nothing.

– Would madame and monsieur like me to tap dance?! Am I not interesting enough for you? Or perhaps you’d like me to do some magic, pull a bunny out of my ass or something, is that it? Would that pique your interests?


– Oooh, I see how this is, you think you’re so much better than me, don’t you, each of you trying your best to not even look at me, doing everything to not acknowledge me. Ok, I get it. I see how it’s gonna be. Fine! But let me tell you, when you do decide to acknowledge me, because believe me, you will, you sure as hell will, my friends, DO NOT expect me to be Mr. Nice Elephant anymore. Man, I will bring the roof down over y’all, I will huff and puff and blow the goddamn walls off this place, just you see! Ain’t nobody gonna treat me like that and not get what’s coming to them, hell no!

– Alright. Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I goddamned warned you. You’ll see.

The pink elephant is annoyed.

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