The Eerie Shout

Posted on February 21, 2005 by Jenna

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Giraffes are animals with very long necks. They jump from tree to tree. They shout the eerie shout, “Giraffe! Giraffe!”, that makes them properly giraffes.

Giraffes do not like their long necks. At fancy restaurants, they cannot reach the table. They cannot eat their food. They can only graze the hairdos of the very tallest waiters. In a basketball-themed restaurant, they can eat most waiters’ hair. In a jockey-themed restaurant, unless the waiters are on horses, this is not as true. Because the giraffes’ necks are so long, they cannot leave a tip.

Giraffes can eat leaves from higher places in trees than other animals. They have a practical monopoly on these leaves. If these leaves tasted good, then the giraffes might be satisfied. However, the giraffes would like to eat cake and steak and shake ‘n bake, and leaves mostly taste like bitter crunchy air. Should they happen across a human or tiger enjoying cake or steak, the giraffe might look mournful. When the human or tiger observes, “You’re capable of consuming many leaves that I simply cannot reach,” it is not typical for this observation to console the giraffe.

Giraffes’ necks don’t let them ride the subway like normal people. They have to ride on top, clinging close with their necks flat against the metal. They wrap their ammo bandoliers tightly around their body, dye their head-buds colors appropriate to street warriors, and ride with the wind in their face. Then they reach their destination, and shout the eerie shout, “Giraffe!”

The eerie shout echoes through the subway. The station attendant collects their ticket. The giraffes disembark. They nibble at the popcorn ceiling with nonchalance and ascend the escalator to the street. Then they are gone.

Giraffes have trouble with phone booths. Even if their necks fit into the booth, their heads and bodies won’t. If Superman had become a giraffe, he would not have been able to change his clothes. They would have gotten very stinky from him wearing them all the time. To resolve this plotline he would have had to absorb a dying Mr. Clean’s powers and add them to his own. An early writer established that Superman’s disguise is partially maintained by Super-Hypnotism and his ability to vibrate his face so quickly that no one can make out details. This means that a giraffe Superman would probably have been able to maintain his secret identity. When disguised he would have seemed just like any other giraffe.

If Karl Rove had become a giraffe, he would tower over all the other people at the White House. He would occasionally eat the leaves of trees that not even the President could reach. It’d be leaves majeste, but who could stop him? He’d be a giraffe! They might even put shake ‘n bake in the treetops, just for him.

If the Lone Ranger had become a giraffe, there would have been much deeper problems. First, he would have been even more of a minority than Tonto. By the immutable rules of the West, Tonto would have to assume the position of white privilege. For example, Tonto might listen to the ground, and then say, “The political and military power I have inherited from the European invaders indicates to me that horses are approaching.” Or he might throw a tomahawk, but explain away his skill with, “I learned it in Detroit, yo!”

Meanwhile, because of his extremely long neck, the Lone Ranger could not use guns. Because of his four legs and heavy body, he could not ride a horse. His weapon and transportation of choice would be a mobile artillery station. For example, when the two inseparable heroes encountered entrenched corruption in a frontier town, Tonto might place a few calls to his friends in high places while the Lone Ranger bombarded the sheriff’s office from afar with heavy mortar loads. When the mysterious masked giraffe at last departed, the citizens of the town would be simultaneously confused, grateful, and relieved.

Some people think that giraffes come from baby giraffes, but they don’t. They can be born as anyone or anything. To be a giraffe is not a matter of character but of practice;

Just seven shouts of the eerie shout and you can be one too.