There is nothing sadder than an old elephant
at the zoo. All alone, the color of tarmac, a gigantic
mouse behind bars. She stands at the ready, turning
around and around. By the end of the day, she is fit
for a shower and a long cry.

What’s an elephant to do, chained to a stump with a 6-year-old
the only one who understands her pain? I say throw a peanut
at its head. Pick up a chunk of rock. Hop on its back and stick its ear.
That’ll teach it to dance. Shout “Go!” Hit it over and over,
the way you do your wife and kids. Way to go.

When you’re through with the elephant, you can move on to more
important matters, like burning churches and killing doctors.
Take it out on them, too. Why stop with the dumb elephant?
You can be more effective; get yourself worked up. Pour
gasoline all over and set yourself on fire.

When we kill elephants, we are killing ourselves. These sprees
are assassinations. Don’t kid yourself. It’s murder. Whoever said so,
and it’s probably your daughter, is right. The decimation of the elephants,
and that goes for gorillas and rainforests, too, is self-destructive.
It’s annihilation of the soul. It’s a catastrophe of thought.

Pure Neanderthal, a spasm of base instinct. But then so is murder.
Keep in mind, it is happening every day of the week, 24/7.
The guy murdered his sister because he has no money is a sinister joke.
Our heads need to be examined. It’s becoming a killing field
like Cambodia and Rwanda. Incredibly, decent people are confused.

Our only hope now is the Abracadabra Tree, the one that talks to the elephants.
It’s green with exquisite little blossoms. But beware: now that we’ve stripped
our young of their humanity, the trees won’t bear fruit. What’s next?
Mass killings? Forest fires? Human life is worth nothing in a place like this.
You might as well drive the herd over a cliff.