Pachyderm

A few years ago, just before the great Elephant emancipation when Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo sent their pachyderms into retirement because of the public outcry the animals needed more room, I stood watching one on a warm autumn morning.

I had been staring at the huge, beautiful beast for at least ten minutes when three excited little girls ran up to the fence next to me. Soon, a lady, obviously the mother of one of them and chaperone to the others, said, “Girls! Don’t push!” and stepped between them and myself. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I hope they aren’t bothering you.”

I told her no, not at all and I noticed one of the girls pull back slightly from the fence, just a little bit behind the other two and her eyes were a little wider while looking at the African elephant, who had begun flapping his ears back and forth.
The woman leaned over to me, “You see that one little girl?”
“Yes, is she okay? She seems a little scared but still wants to be intrigued…” I replied.
“Well” the lady continued, talking as if she was Hedda Hopper with a really good gossip scoop, “she was here last month with her dad, standing in this same spot, looking at that same elephant and really enjoying herself. All of a sudden the big guy picked up a huge clump of poop with his trunk and threw it straight at her and her father, like some baseball player.”

The woman was trying not to giggle, but kept whispering the story to me so the child wouldn’t hear.
“The two of them just stood there in shock, mouths open, covered in crap. They couldn’t move they were so surprised. So…so…” and she had a hard time not laughing, “So, the elephant did it again! That poor little thing had just gotten a new outfit, new shoes, hair done, everything, and she just stood there covered in poop. They took a taxi home and the driver didn’t want them in his car, accused the father of being some derelict, they had to throw away every bit of clothing, every shoe…I’m surprised she’s able to stand here right now.”

Just then, as the two girls excitedly pointed that the animal had taken a step forward, the third little girl got very nervous and blurted out, “Er…yeah…yeah…uh huh….letsgolookatthepolarbear…” and grabbed the arms of her companions and took off. Just a blur of pigtails as the lady who’d been talking with me said, “Have fun!” and headed after them.

I turned back around to continue my observation of the elephant. About eight strangers did a double take in my direction when I found myself unable to remember I wasn’t alone and shouldn’t use my outdoor voice when he took another step forward and I said, very loudly, “Don’t even think about it, Jumbo!”