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Once upon a time there was a zoo in West Virginia that specialized in rare and unusual animals. One day, sadly, its albino toucan died. So the zoo assigned their caretaker Fred to go to Africa to get a new one. But they could't afford to send him on a regular cargo ship, so he had to go by rowboat. So off he went, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, across the Atlantic to Africa, where he had to cut his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until he came across a clearing where he found Tarzan painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
Fred asked Tarzan, "Hey, can you tell me where to find an albino toucan?"
Tarzan pointed toward one of the nearby paths leading from the clearing and said, "Ugh. Five miles."
"Thanks, Tarzan!" Fred said, and took off down the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until sure enough he found an albino toucan, trapped it, put it into a sack and slung the sack over his shoulder. Then he made his way back along the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until he came to the path where Tarzan was painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
"Thanks again, Tarzan!" Fred said, and took off down the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, back to his rowboat, and then he returned across the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row, back to West Virginia, where he delivered the albino toucan to the zoo.
Two years passed, then one day, sadly, the zoo's pygmy giraffe died. So they sent Fred to go get a new one.
So off he went, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, across the Atlantic to Africa, where he cut his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, and again came to the clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
"Hello again, Tarzan," Fred said. "Know where I can find the pygmy giraffe?"
Tarzan pointed to another nearby path and said, "Ugh. Seven miles."
"Thanks, Tarzan!" Fred said, then cut his way along the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until sure enough he spotted a pygmy giraffe. He trapped it, tossed it in his sack, and returned along the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until he came to the clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
"Thanks again, Tarzan!" Fred said, and headed back to the coast, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, and then got in the rowboat and returned across the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, until he returned to West Virginia and delivered the pygmy giraffe to the zoo.
Three years passed, and all was well until one day, the zoo's ugly pink hippopotamus died. It just so happened Fred was ill at the time, so the zoo sent his substitute, Frieda, to go to Africa for a new one. So off she went in the rowboat, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, across the Atlantic, and when she got to African she cut her way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until she came to a clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
"Hi Tarzan," Frieda said. "Know where I can get an ugly pink hippopotamus?"
Tarzan pointed down a nearby path and said, "Ugh. Ten miles." So Frieda cut her way along the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until sure enough she spotted an ugly pink hippopotamus, possibly even uglier and pinker than the old one. She trapped it, tossed it into a bag over her shoulder and headed back down the path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until she came to the clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether he was painting white stripes on a black zebra or black stripes on a white zebra is not important to the outcome of the story.
"Thanks, Tarzan!" Frieda said, and returned to the coast, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, and then got in the rowboat and crossed the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, row, and returned home to West Virginia, where she delivered the ugly pink hippopotamus, possibly even uglier and pinker than the old one, to the zoo.
Four years passed, and all was well ...

JerryPetersen 5 Apr 12
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3 comments

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1

Instinct told me to go to the end but nooooooooooooooo - good thing you are not sitting next to me as I type, I be snatchin' you bald headed 😉 LOL

2

Ten minutes of my life I will never get back. ?

Doug Level 5 Apr 12, 2018
5

I think I am contemplating homicide right now. Whether it will be by strangulation or blunt force trauma is not important to the outcome of the story!

phxbillcee Level 10 Apr 12, 2018

May I suggest closure of the storyteller's mouth and nostrils with cling wrap wrapped around the head. Whether No Frills brand or Glad Wrap is not important to the outcome of the story - just shut TF up!

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