For the second of his New York City inspired blog posts, our very own jive talkin’ choirboy David Reilly takes a trip to the scenic Bronx Zoo.
Polar bears are awesome.
What? You want more? Okay then.
Towards the end of the Summer, I went to the famous Bronx Zoo. My intention was to befriend a giraffe, a pelican and a monkey and then become the best damn window washers the world has seen. Just like the kid from that Roald Dahl book. On my way to the giraffes I passed the polar bears’ enclosure. A huge crowd, which I immediately joined, were gathered watching the polar bear do the most amazing things. He was lying in the water, throwing a ball in the air and splashing a bit. You could go to any swimming pool and there would be loads of children doing the exact same thing but it’s just annoying. However, if a polar bear does it, it’s charming; a rule I find can be applied to all areas of life.
For example:
Going to watch my cousin’s school production of Les Miserables: Boring!
Going to watch a polar bear dream a dream: The best thing ever!
As I was watching the polar do it’s “thang”, a little girl beside me said,
“I want to see it eat someone!”
When I was a kid I wanted a bouncing castle made out of ice cream and for Toy Story to be real. Not to see another person get eaten by a bear. I reckon she was hoping someone would hear her and volunteer themselves. Some guy thinks to himself, “I can’t let this child be unhappy, there’s enough sadness in the world.” before climbing into the enclosure and provoking the bear by calling it a queer. Polar bears are notoriously homophobic and fly into a blood rage if anyone calls them gay. It’s their only real flaw as a species.
The bear, incensed, charges towards the intruder. The man stands tall, confident that his decision was for the greater good. The bear dives through the air, landing at the feet of the man. It removes a bottle of Coca-Cola from a concealed pocket, stands on it’s hind legs and drinks the contents, before turning to a nearby camera and winking. Most people aren’t aware that after years of appearing in Christmas commercials for Coke, polar bears have developed a dependency on the carbonated beverage, needing it before undertaking in any feat of great physical exertion. Just as the man pieces this together himself, the bear smashes the empty glass bottle over his head.
They may be beautiful creatures, but the way they fight is anything but.
“RAWROMNOMNOM!”, roars the bear as he bites into the man. The man releases a scream of sheer agony.
“Getting eaten hurts so much! At least this is making a little girl happy!” He struggles to finish this sentence as blood begins to pour out of his mouth.
The little girl begins to cry as it dawns on her just how shitty a wish it was. She begins to regret not being content with her earlier want to see a zebra do a large poo on her sister.
“Make it stop! Please, make it stop!”, cried the little girl, as she realised that she had become an accessory to murder. The polar bear continued to ravage the man. At one point, it even wore the man’s tattered shirt and pranced about in a circle, implying that it was the man, and not he, that was in fact gay. The crowd collectively shook their heads at this display of immaturity.
“This is what you wanted to see!” yelled the man, “For your eleven year old developing mind to witness another human being viciously devoured by a polar bear with old fashioned beliefs!”
The bear retorted, “RAWROMNOMRAWRNOM!”. This response drew comparisons to a young Oscar Wilde amongst the crowd. This of course incensed him even more. The bear was mauling with such aggression that any innate grace or finesse were forgotten. For a brief moment, the man’s voice could be heard over the sounds of mutilation.
“Why couldn’t polar bears have thumbs!? This would be over so much quicker if he didn’t keep dropping me!” Never had anyone in that situation uttered such apt words.
Apologies for the graphic nature of this image.
The girl was crying so hard, her tears were now crying tears of their own. Somehow.
“I don’t want this any more!”, she wailed. Too late little girl, you’ve killed an innocent, all be hypothetical, man.
“Seeing as he was your creation, as was this entire scenario surely it is you who has ended this poor man’s life.” she articulated and in doing so, popping the clichéd comic book style thought bubble floating above my head.
Having had my fun ruined by my own subconscious, I decided to call it a day and go home. I broke the news to the monkey and the pelican that the plan was off and released them back into their natural habitats, the mean streets of the Bronx.




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