Jeff Wysaski
Okay roomies, I hate to say it, but this hippo infestation is really getting out of hand. I just went to grab my leftovers from Outback Steakhouse, and when I opened the door there was a baby hippo in there munching on my Bloomin’ Onion.
I would ask how the little bugger got in there in the first place, but then I noticed the GIANT hippo-sized bite mark taken out of the entire left-hand side of the refrigerator!
No wonder I’ve been having trouble chilling my Mountain Dews lately. Dudes, you know when I do the Dew I gotta have that shit hella crisp! How am I supposed to take my life to the Xtreme with all them hippos crumpling on my chill zone (refrigerator).
Look, I’ll admit it was cute when there was just two of them. They hung out in the backyard pool mostly, “mowed” our grass, and were a big hit with everyone at all of our house parties. Those big balls of blubber single-handedly quadrupled are “cool” cred, and I’ll be the first one to admit that.
But now – I don’t know if you’ve noticed – those freaking hippos have been humping like crazy! And suddenly, those two harmless hippos in the backyard have multiplied into a few dozen! Needless to say, our 2-bedroom duplex is feeling a little cramped these days.
I can’t even remember the last time I slept in my bed – some hippo has been sunning himself on my Sealy Posturepedic for I don’t even know how long. I tried closing the drapes to see if that would get him to vamoose, but that only made him angry.
Hence the huge open gash down the entire length of my arm.
YEAH, I KNOW! I really should “cover that thing up with some gauze or something!” Except I can’t get to the first aid kit because there’s a hippo in the bathroom sparring with our full-length mirror!
And guys, it’s not just a space issue. There’s the money. I know they look totally rad, but I don’t know how many more pairs of over-sized novelty sunglasses and custom-made Hawaiian t-shirts my bank account can handle!
No, you’re right. I agree with you 100 percent. It’s either “Party” hippos or no hippos at all. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to vote “no hippos.”
Another thing, where there’s hippos, there’s yellow-billed oxpeckers. You know, the little birds that pick parasites out of the hippos’ teeth? Yeah, and those little winged rats bring a whole other set of problems all together.
Did you know those crazy birds have been tugging my hair out at night and using it to build nests in my sock drawer? What the fudge is that about!?!?
All things said and done, I think it’s pretty clear that we should face facts and go ahead and call an exterminator or something. These hippos have just gotten out of hand.
Yeah, I know it’s going to be the end of an era. No longer will we be able cap off our keg stands by hurling the empty keg into the waiting open mouth of a nearby hippo. That’s a crowd pleaser, no doubt.
But I’m willing to give up that luxury for a little more peace and quiet. And if you two disagree with me, well then I just have two words for you: hippo poop.
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