Monday, July 12, 2010

Conversation between a British soccer commentator and an American soccer commentator at the zoo

B: A balmy day for it, and the animals all in their furs and finery as we prepare for what promises to be an entertaining and enlightening display of nature at her glorious best.

A: We are at the zoo.

B: Indeed we are, John, and, on the sidelines as we may be, we have a part to play in this age-old ritual of man confronting his ancient past and, who knows – maybe his future – through the iron bars of a cage. And here they go! The baboons are in powerful form today as they begin their morning ablutions.

A: The monkeys are playing in the water. I knew a guy once who had a monkey. It was kind of like, some kind of pet monkey.

B: Quite. And now we must bring our own pet notions to bear on this exciting spectacle. It looks as if the male baboon, awoken from his righteous slumber, has cast a wary eye upon the swollen rump of his rutting young bride. That kind of focused attention can only mean one thing - the play is about to begin.

A: He's hurting her!

B: Yes, John, I suppose he is. But like all pleasures and pains, this one has been fleeting. His interest has waned, and with it I fear, ours must go as well. Shall we make our way to the lofty arbors of the Orangutans?

A: Are they monkeys? I knew a guy once who had a monkey. Like, a real one. He kept it as a pet. I like monkeys.

B: I know you do, John. I know you do.

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