If I Could Talk To The Animals

This week I have chosen Maryanne Slater’s words: Item – bananas; Word: gallivanting

Thanks Maryanne! Enjoy!


If I Could Talk To The Animals


“The world’s gone to hell!” muttered John over his beer.

“Can’t argue with ya there bud,” replied his friend Bob, swallowing the last of his Guinness.

“Ever since them damned animals started to talking everything’s fallen apart!”

“Didn’t help that the bloody government goes and gives ‘em all rights neither. Now you sees them everywhere, gallivanting around, showing off, thinking they own the damn place.” Bob sneered into his drink .

“Damn right!” agreed John, finishing his beer.

“You want another?”

“Aw I dunno, it would mean having ta talk to him again, ya know?”

“Oh yeah, right. But what the hell, at least he’s serving us, right?” laughed Bob.

“Hey! Yeah! OK, get me another.”

“Hey! Hey boy! Here boy! Come here!” yelled Bob to the waiter.

An English Springer Spaniel walked over to their table on his hind legs.

“What can I do for you two fine gentlemen?” he asked in a refined English accent.

“Oh, so high and mighty! Well mister nose-in-the-air we’ll have two of the same if you please.” said John.

“Certainly sir,” replied the waiter who went off to get their drinks.

As they watched him go they took a look around the pub. It was filled with patrons tonight, both animal and human. There were humans sitting together, animals sitting together and a few sets of humans sitting with animals as well. Of course there were parts of the pub made to fit particular species, the horses had their own section for example, not due to some sort of segregation, but simply because they were so big. Some species had special chairs, like the cats, because of how small they tended to be. Other species liked special motifs. Take the apes for example. In their section there were bananas everywhere.

Seeing all this special treatment for each group was one of the things that made John so angry. Humans all had different tastes, didn’t they? But did they get special booths or sections? No! He was not impressed. Not at all.

“Damn meteor crashes and next thing you know the world goes to hell.” John complained for the millionth time.

“I keep telling ya it wasn’t the damn meteor ya idiot, it was the virus or germs or whatever ON the meteor,” explained Bob. Also for the millionth time.

“Same thing.”

“No it bloody isn’t!”

“Whatever. No meteor, no talking animals, none of this crap,” said John.

“OK, point taken.”

The waiter came back with their drinks.

“There you go gentlemen. That will be twelve dollars please.”

John threw the money on the floor.

“Fetch!” he laughed.

As the waiter picked up the cash from the floor, the front door to the pub opened and a very large Panda walked in and sat at the bar.

“Well, well. What have we here?” asked John.

“Oh leave it be,” said Bob who had seen this behavior before from his drunken friend and knew where this was headed.

“Naw! I’m just gonna have a friendly chat with him!”

“Man, leave him alone!” protested Bob, but John wasn’t hearing it.

John staggered over to the bar and sat down beside the Panda who was by this time enjoying his meal.

“Hiya big guy!” said John, slapping the Panda on the back.

“Go away,” said the Panda in a deep calm voice.

“Aw c’mon! I’m just being friendly. Like the President said: “We all gotta be friends now”, right?” John patted the Panda on the back again.

“Please go away,” said the Panda in his deep calm voice.

“Man, that’s just too much. I mean wow! You animals just start talkin’, then expect us to accept you as equals, but won’t bend the other way to be friendly to us! Talk about a double standard! Holy crap! I mean I’ve seen some ignorant –“




While John was ranting away at the Panda, he had finished his meal and stepped back from the bar. He turned to look at John and had a gun in his paw. He shot him. Then he calmly left the bar by the front door without saying a word.

The bar was totally silent.

“What the hell was that?” Bob yelled as he rushed to his friend who was lying on the floor bleeding from a gunshot wound to the shoulder.

“That was Panda,” replied the waiter. “He eats, shoots, and leaves.”



Note: For those of you who do not understand the ending of the story: it was derived from the following joke about bad punctuation –

A panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and proceeds to fire it at the other patrons.

“Why?” asks the confused, surviving waiter amidst the carnage, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m a panda,” he says. “Look it up.”

The waiter turns to the relevant entry in the manual and, sure enough, finds an explanation. “Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves.


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