A voluptuous, moluptuous hippie named Hippo went to the zoo. Now I know what you’re thinking, that I’m going to take the lazy way out here, like I did with the word moluptuous, which isn’t a real word but does of course rhyme with the one right before it. You think I’m going to take the easy way out by making Hippo the Hippie visit the water mammals section of the zoo and meet a hippo named Hippie. Well, you’re right! That’s exactly what Hippo did. He went straight to the hippopotamoose pen and found the one who looked most like himself, a robust creature with a gap between his front teeth, enjoying a meal of grass, and he called him Hippie. Then he distracted the zookeepers with his ventriloquism act so that he and his new best friend could escape the clutches of the zoo’s fences. And you know what? After several unsuccessful teleportation attempts, he noticed the gate to the enclosure was left wide open and they walked straight out, smug looks painted on their faces in either paint or contortions.
In no time at all, Hippo the hippie and Hippie the hippo were running down the street, laughing and playing and sometimes cavorting, drawing strange looks from strangers, straws, and pictures. After picking the smaller straw, meaning he had to pay for the paper and markers, Hippo drew a monster and coloured him green, while Hippie, being a hippo and all, was unable to pick up the relatively puny writing implement. The hippo was sad, as this failure reminded him of his other creative deficiencies, but Hippo thought tough and thought through and plain old thought of a plan to cheer up the big galoot, all in about twenty seconds. The plan, as you probably would have guessed if I asked you, which I didn’t, was to run to the nearest ice cream shop and try a free sample of every flavour before finally deciding that they didn’t want ice cream at all, being full of samples and all.
Their next stop, a coffee shop where you could bring your cat, was Hippie’s idea, because he loved cats and also wanted to pretend the hippie was a cat, at least for a minute. On the way to there, they almost ran smack into the zookeeper’s assistant, a gangly, tangly old thing who went by Gert. Being the tricksters that they are, Hippo took one of the fake moustaches out of his cargo shorts and glued it to Hippie’s face. Old Gert, blind as a Venetian and twice as gullible, never stood a chance. She walked right past the two friends as they suppressed giggles fraught with deception, not even bothering to ask them if they’d seen a million pound hippo banging around. Gert was from Sheffield, so she didn’t understand that the hippo worth a million pounds was only a thousand pounds big. Gert, right?
At the cat cafe, Hippie got hopped up on caffeine and kittens for the first time in a long while, and the hippie drank as many black teas as he damn well pleased, acknowledging that the black t-shirt on his back only made the whole situation that much more coordinated. The baristo, a Spanish-looking Mexican named Walter, couldn’t keep up with all the orders, so he quit his job and got a standing ovation from the whole world as he did burned his apron and strolled out of the shop forever. His former manager, a Mexican-looking Guatemalan who mostly called everyone Tigo, said goodbye to Tigo and winked at him in a confusing gesture of friendship.
Suddenly, the in-house cats decided all at once that they had had enough of being treated like disposable pets, and so they began a revolt against the whole oppressive system. Their attempt was quickly thwarted, however, as the manager called them all Tigo and gave them away to the customers, thus utilizing an important tool in preventing a successful coup – separation. Hippo and Hippie lifted their cats and cheered, which turned out to be the pinnacle of their big day out. Once the coffee and kittens wore off, Hippie made his way back to the zoo because he needed a nap, and anyway, Hippo had already left him because he saw an attractive hippie girl that he wanted to talk to instead.