When A Hippopotamus Feels Lonely

Once upon a time, there was a hippopotamus. But, he wasn't just any hippopotamus, he was a
sad hippopotamus in a moderately content jungle housing moderately content resident animals.
Sometimes, the hippopotamus felt he was a girl. Other times, the hippopotamus felt like he was
being oppressed by a global conspiracy against hippopotamuses. The hippopotamus had rather
profound ideas for ending his own life a task that entailed a lot of creativity and effort on his part
given the availability of resources and implements in the jungle. Luckily, this hippopotamus was also
an artist. He enjoyed painting and Hip Hop and puking out his supper into the water hole late at night
to the dread of all the other animals thirsty for a morning drink.
The hippopotamus was in the process of regurgitating the contents of his stomach back out
through his esophagus one evening a truly taxing endeavor when he realized all the animals in
the jungle had mated except for him. Spitting out some of his stomach fluids into the water hole, he
thought to himself Where did I go wrong? The realization struck deep like a Texan oil well toxic
and crude in its approach. Could there be something wrong with me?
He vomited meager chunks of grass into the water hole, then made his way through the thick
wood. Images entered his mind visions of beautiful hippopotamuses frolicking amongst themselves
and whispering sweet nothings to one another, of the handsome spider who occasionally dropped by
to pass greetings and sports news. Why don't they love me? It was a question of love. This, of course,
lead to a harsh critique of himself. Is my butt too large? Am I ugly? Is this nose unattractive? Are my
eyes too far from the lateral sides of my head? Am I fat? Are my teeth that ugly? Is my makeup not
enough? Are my jeans too tight? He wondered as he circled around a tree something he did when
in deep contemplation. His matelessness wasn't much a source of indignity, realistically speaking.
Rarely anyone spoke of their mating endeavors but the beta lions who had discussed it among their
pride, the spider informed.
Time passed. Giggling female hippopotamuses passed, too, amused with the seemingly
insane hippopotamus engaged in revolving around a tree. He tried to wave at them in greeting, but
was restrained by his self-animosity, which was increasingly overwhelming.
All these things in his physical appearance, he sought to change in himself, but there was no
way that he could. The insight of hopelessness didn't stop him from taking a self-destructive
approach in the pursuit of aesthetic appeal, however. He refused to eat more than a mouthful of fallen
leaves. The scrumptious grass by the swamps beckoned at his appetite, but he did not succumb. He

hadn't ended his puking routine, either. His unwavering desire for sex trumped any regard for health
and wellbeing. His resolve had strengthened as his body weakened. His once-beautiful brown-pink
complexion had turned pale from extended starvation. The jungle animals took notice of their
humorous, eccentric hippopotamus brother growing sick, and began to be concerned.
Is he sick? the alpha lion interrogated the spider, the one animal all the others knew the
hippopotamus was closest to.
Has he gone mad? asked a gentle snake. The frightful arachnid could not provide
substantial response to their questions; his best friend had not confided in him the reasons for his
predicament.
While wading in the river, the hippopotamus watched a frog drift downstream on a plant of
some sort. May you find your true love wherever you might go, dear toad. he wished.
I'm a frog. the frog responded.
The hippopotamus resumed his leisurely bath. He began to consider that, perhaps, he had to
search for his mate. Perhaps, the jungle isn't the place for me. He had heard news of some beta lions
being taken away by furless, white monkeys who stood on two legs. Perhaps, that is why the beta
lions have so many mating experiences. In a flicker of discernment, the hippopotamus had decided.
I will have sex. he declared. No matter what it takes.
Strolling around later that day, as if at his behest, he caught sight of the furless, white
monkeys searching for what he assumed to be lions. Overjoyed, he sprinted towards them and
stopped right where he knew they could see him, about twenty yards away. The hippopotamus
anxiously awaited for his furless, white heroes to take him away to their paradise. While they were
loading the sedated beta lions into this big, robust thing with big, black, circular things under it, the
hippopotamus craved for the intimacy and rabid animalistic pleasures of sex. Unbeknownst to the
furless, white monkeys, the hippopotamus was more than willing to go with them to their holy land.
They would have known, however, had the hippopotamus been well-versed in the vernacular of
furless, white monkeys. One of them who wasn't very white, aptly named Rafael, approached the
hippopotamus with a warm, concerned look in his eyes. He also looked like he really needed to poop,
and that piqued the hippopotamus's interest. After moments of not-so-careful observation, Rafael
tenderly pierced three tranquilizer darts into the hippopotamus.
The hippopotamus awoke in an enclosure that seemed quite like his jungle home. This is it!
I'm here! I shall meet my mate! But no mate came to him. There were only furless, white monkeys of
varying sizes who frequented his prison to take good, observant looks at him from behind a solid,

invisible wall. This concerned him.

Where is my mate? I want to mate! he screamed helplessly. To his dismay, the furless,
white monkeys would respond in a tongue unknown to him.
Days passed, and he remained mateless and unmated. Much of his time in his new home was
spent wandering aimlessly, chanting mate, and vomiting onto the solid, invisible wall. The grass he
fed on was stale at best and putrid at worst. He began to wonder if, still, he was aesthetically
unsuitable for mating. As he once did, he refused to eat anything that was fed to him, and continued
to puke onto the solid, invisible wall. Some days, he would be too tired and out of breath from
starvation and frustration and regurgitation, that he would lay in his own filth completely unwilling
to clean up or move. Some of the furless, white, monkey passersby found the sight quite appalling,
while others found it entertaining.
The news of the mad hippopotamus in heat had spread among the furless, white monkeys
fast, and plenty more came by to watch him hurt and yearn. The internal sorrow that consumed him,
which he expressed quite unusually, became a source of joy and wonder, but also mystery for his
onlookers. They laughed and bantered amongst themselves while they watched him writhe in vomit
and misery. His body large, plump and frail could not keep up with his lifestyle. He began to
deteriorate.
Gasping the breaths that would later be known to be his last, the hippopotamus mustered the
strength to stand up, and chew on some grass. The reaction of his audience was mixed ranging
from joyful that he had finally broken this episode of starvation to mildly saddened that the spectacle
under their gaze was no longer performing its deathly dance. But while the response to his act of
sustenance was varied, their feelings about his next move were not. They were all taken aback by the
sight of the hippopotamus engaged in a cycle of regurgitation and re-consumption. Chunks and
sludge came from the hippopotamus's mouth onto the ground, and he would chew and slurp them
back up. This routine continued until, at last, he fell. This is how you will remember me. he
declared aloud. I am mateless as you are furless. Oh, Rafael. You should know what great good
you've done for me, bringing me to this wretched place. Through actions you deem trivial, you have,
indeed, breached all binds of misfortune to bring me to my true fate. As the stars gather as a grand
ball in the sky that watched me suffer from conception to this very moment, they smile at the good
work they've done. As the sun blushes in shame at sunset, and the mantis is beheaded, and the Earth
swallows whole its prey, and the wolf is knotted in his woman, and the caterpillar consumes itself,
and the crickets tremble in the warmth of gecko mouths, I have, at last, fulfilled my purpose. he

paused. This is my destiny. he whispers as the final breath fled from his mouth.
he whispers as the final breath fled from his mouth.