The Rum Drinker

A long long time ago I read an article about a far far away land where elephants would ransack villages in order to steel and drink rum. Imagine a herd of those juggernauts crashing their way into your local bar... Wouldn't that be a story.
Anyway, not too long ago I found myself at a zoo and one of the elephants there caught my eye. We'll call him Sarabi. Sarabi was a big, mean looking fucker. Remembering the article and after a closer look, I realized he also had a bit of bitterness in his eyes; like a disgruntled drinker who's been barred from his local establishment. It must have been awhile since his last drink as zoos tend to have a no-alcohol policy. The thing is, elephants have good memory, so I'm pretty sure this sad bastard hasn't forgotten the bittersweet nectar that makes your problems go away, that gets your heart racing and that changes you from a shy introvert into a charmingly funny guy when talking to pretty elephant girls. No. Sarabi hasn't forgotten.
For a second he looks at me and I think to myself: I understand your pain my friend, but if it's a Saturday night and you try to put your paws on my rum and coke, you and me are going to have a problem, you over-sized steroid-doused peanut muncher. Buy your own fucking drinks, Sarabi.