April 9, 2019

The elephant and the tax consultant moved to the starting line and crouched low, preparing to hurl themselves down the track. The starter, a renegade lumberjack, raised her pistol. Neither elephant nor insurance adjuster spoke a word, but both peered through slit eyes of rage at the innocent sky. Insufferable insults had been exchanged days earlier at the boxcar convention, and now the result, a 100 yard race of hate, was about to play out to its inevitable forensic conclusion. Microphones were installed in the dirigible overhead just as the renegade lumberjack fired the pistol. The insurance adjuster took an early lead, but was overtaken and trampled to jelly by the elephant. The people waiting around with bread and peanut butter were beneath contempt.

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