Did I know the giraffe was going to jump out of the convertible? What in the hell kind of question is that? I don’t speak giraffe. The giraffe did not communicate to me that he was going to jump out of the car and hit his head on the bottom of the overpass. Of course I didn’t know the giraffe was going to jump out of the convertible. Giraffe’s are supposed to be well behaved! At least that’s what I always learned on the Discovery Channel. I don’t even know how he got his seatbelt undone; giraffe’s don’t have opposable thumbs you know. How did I manage to get the giraffe into the car? Why, Mexicans of course. I mean hello you dummy, you know the ones – the ones always standing out front of the home depot? The ones always looking for jobs? Granted, they were a little hesitant at first when I showed up in my cherry red, Sebring convertible with the top down, shouting for them to go on ahead and hop into the back of the car. But you say one word enough times to them no matter what it is, and it’ll become work, work, work – which of course translates into pesos, pesos, pesos – which in turn becomes pennies on the dollar. Great cheap labor those Mexicans.
Why did I steal it?
Sir, if I have to explain myself than you are obviously too stupid to understand it, and explaining myself wouldn’t make any bit of difference. I don’t need to explain myself. And don’t even bother with all of that, good cop, bad cop mumbo jumbo. Everybody already knows that cops are all assholes. How do I know that? You mean, how do I know that!? Well officer, I once got pulled over for speeding while my wife was in labor in the back of our car – you know, the back of my, cherry red Sebring convertible? Well, when I get pulled over I says to him,
“Officer, you gotta be kiddin me! You gotta let us go! My wife is in labor!”
And he says: “Sir, have you been da-rinking this evening?!”
Anyways, I say to him,
“As a matter-of-fact officer, I have had a couple of da-rinks this evening, because as you see– me and my wife here were at the Applebee’s enjoying our happy hour. And I mean, officer, it wasn’t my first choice to drive, but you see, you can’t just help not going into labor, just about the same way you can’t help not resisting a good sale on Happy Hour drinks! I mean, talk about a bargain on drinks! And I get the Long Island Iced Teas too! Because, you know – you get more bang for your dollar that way. And my wife here, well, she’s trying to be healthy for the baby, so she drinks Cosmopolitans, on account of all the cranberry juice they put in there. You know, the juice is good for the baby.”
So, the officer looks at me, and then he looks to the back seat and says –
“Sir, there is nobody in your backseat.”
And when I turn around it dawns on me that I’d gone and left my wife at Applebee’s. And she was squirming and bleeding and screaming and squirting baby juice all over the place back at Applebee’s. And that’s why, to this very day, our son’s name is: Long Island Applejack Cosmopolitan Rixie.
But back to the original reason for this story. The reason I think all cops are assholes is because – Oh, you mean you wanna hear the giraffe part of the story?
Well, there I was – at Applebee’s – minding my own business and trying to enjoy my Long Island Iced Teas, when there was this party, making this big ole fuss. And I’m just trying to watch some goddamned baseball, but that’s not happening on account of how goddamned noisy all these people are being. And you know how it is with baseball – it’s such a high-octane sport – you need to watch it with your full attention. Anyways, I go over to them and I say,
“Hey folks! What’s all the commotion about?”
And they look at me kind of like, hey, who the hell is this handsome fella? But then one of the girls turns to me and says, (all snooty like, mind you)
“Well, our friend here is going to Africa.”
“Africa!?” I say. “ Africa? Why in the good Goddamn would you want to go to Africa? You know how many people are trying to leave Africa?!”
“Well,” the girl says. “Even if we explained it to you, you probably wouldn’t understand.”
“Yes, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Africa. I wouldn’t understand, Africa?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t understand Africa. Now please leave. You’re ruining our party.”
So I said: “Oh, I’ll leave. But I’m coming back. I’ll show you Africa.”
And that’s when I left to go get the Mexicans, to go break into the zoo, to go and steal the giraffe. Because there are giraffes in Africa – get it? And I was gonna take it home and teach it how to shit on command, because I was going to take it to that bitches house and have it shit all over her house and lawn. And possibly her car.
Because nothing says, “Fuck You” like a giraffe does when it’s shitting all over your shit.