He’s tired, sagging, long, and falling like a Basset Hound. At a cafe,
huddling around a coffee, he’s putting all his hope into every Colombian
caress. Bitter as dark chocolate, it’s a chance at open eyelids and actively
active actions; espresso after latte after espresso after tea after coffee
after espresso after latte. He stops halfway to watch a girl with legs like
a giraffe saunter by with a decaf something or other, and wonders how such
long legs can run on decaf.
“I’m gonna head out now. It’s just not doing the trick,” he says as coyotes
and frogs bounce by with chai teas.
The man behind the counter, looking like a hyena on a hot day, nods.
So the man who still looks like a Basset Hound leaves the man who looks like
a hyena and goes to a theater that looks like a cave to watch a movie that
looks like a caterpillar. Afterwards, he spots a restaurant that resembles a
freshly murdered deer, but only in color. He orders something with chicken,
and stares at the girl who looks like a jaguar sitting with her rhino
friend, and, in the other corner, the man who looks like a sick panda; no
amount of caffeine will awaken that man.
On his way out he notices a gazelle jogging in short shorts. Motivated by
the fear of becoming a sick panda, he jogs alongside him, straining to keep
astride. The gazelle looks at him as though he were a virus, says, “Excuse
me,” and sprints ahead.
“No, wait,” the Basset yells, following as fast as his little legs will
allow. “I need to know what keeps you so lively?”
“What do you mean?”
The Basset points to a Bloodhound and a hippo. “They, like me, have no
energy no matter what we try. But you’re full of energy; what’s your
“Smoothies, of course.”
“Of course,” says the Basset, falling behind. “Smoothies. It’s brilliant.”
Blended with ice.
Whiffed deeply with snout.
He offers some to his roommate, who resembles a wombat.
“No thanks, man. I stay away from that stuff. Fruit’ll kill you. I’m on a
strictly meat and alcohol diet.”
The basset shrugs, chugs, and wipes his mouth, laying the empty glass in a
He waits longer.
A few more minutes.
What a bunch of hogwash! Angry, he storms out of the house, but then he
notices it: he’s storming, like a bull or a bear. The smoothie worked!
He walks, no, he storms into the coffee shop to gloat.
“I have energy!” he yells. “So, so, so much energy!”
The striding, jittering, and jumping cheetahs and hummingbirds inside laugh
uncontrollably, and literally run circles around him.
Ears drooping, he steals one of the cheetah’s mugs of coffee and gulps it