(continued) The mention of food sent me back to a seat at the bar to bug the bartender for the holiday menu. I guess Sawtooth & Bonehead had something besides turkey planned for the entrée because there two of the big birds next to me gobbling loudly. The bartender asked them if they wanted some pumpkin pie & the one named Tom said no, they were already stuffed.

The barkeep finally got around to asking if I wanted another meal or just another refill on the giraffe. “If you’re not serving turkey, what are you offering? I said.

“We’re serving turkeys,” he said. “We’re serving them 3-eyed pig this year.”

That didn’t sound good. “3-eyed pig? What do you call that?”

“Piiig,” said the bartender.

I went ahead & ordered, mainly because he gave me some of my favorite cookies to tide me over. Chocolate chimps. There’s nothing better.

The owners had come over & invited the turkeys to have a look in the kitchen & immediately a couple of bi-valves rolled over & took their seats. Hey, bi-valve or straight valve, it’s your own business, but this was an oyster/abalone couple & I’ll be honest, I’m not all that comfortable with the whole inter-mollusk thing. Anyway, they argued for the longest time with the abalone lass finally shouting, “You never open up to me!” then rolling rapidly out the door. The oyster looked over at me & said, “Well, shucks.” Then he opened his mouth to show a giant pearl. “I was going to give her this. I shelled out over 500 clams for it.”

Mercifully, my meal arrived. It was pretty good & I was really enjoying it when I heard this little voice shout, “Help me!” It was a little teeny snail laying prone by the doorway.

I picked him up & brought him over to the counter & asked him what happened.

“I was mugged by two tortoises,” he said. “It was right across the street.”

“What, just now?” I asked.

“About three hours ago.”

“Could you recognize them?”

“I’m not sure. It all happened so fast.”

I sent the snail out the door sailing threw the air back to the crime scene after telling him I’d notify the police dog to come take a look. Right then, however, the police dog was holding court with some young fox in a corner booth. Seemed to be a lot of inter-critterness going on these days. The difference between a dog & a fox, though, was really only about five drinks or so.

Come to think of it, that jungle bar was kind of a dump. Maybe I’ll just stay home & catch up on my reading. Currently, I’m reading The Bible & Darwin’s “Origin of Species.” I’m trying to figure out if I’m my brother’s keeper or my keeper’s brother.

That’s might be a little heavy for the holiday, so maybe I’ll just ogle my new girlie calendar instead. Miss Ape-ril is a real knockout, but I’m still looking for the gorilla my dreams.

There's nothing happening on this thread, so here is a monkey's tale. (convoluted from sources):

For Thanksgiving I’m going to swing the vines along the treetop expressway down to my favorite little juke joint in the jungle. It’s always rockin’ on the holidays. Just last year I was there at the bar, drinking a sas-gorilla & minding my own business, when in walked a giraffe shouting, “Hey, everybody, the highballs are on me!”

Well, that started a ruckus when we found out the long, tall doofus didn’t have any money. It got ugly enough that the bartender threatened to put some fish in the tank. The last time he did that one of the hammerheads accidentally drove the thing through a wall & fired the howitzer. That section is now referred to as open air dining. It all settled back down after we managed to choke a little cash & a credit card out of the giraffe. It’s just with that ridiculous neck it takes a bit longer.

The cafe owners are an interesting pair, a couple of brothers from deep within the heart of darkest Africa. I’m pretty sure they’re cannibals. One time I heard the pointy toothed one tell the one with the bone in his hair that he didn’t care much for his mother-in-law, so bonehead tells him to just eat the noodles. Don’t get me wrong, the food is terrific.

I got another sas-gorilla courtesy Stretch & headed to the back to watch the jungle cats. They were playing poker at a big round table in the corner. I only knew one of them personally, Leo the Lion. Everybody knows Leo sucks at poker. Suddenly, he let out a roar, threw down his cards & stormed over to me. “Man, I hate playing cards with these cats. I think they’re scamming me. You see the dealer? I know for a fact he’s a cheetah.”

“Well, either way,” I said, “for a lion, you don’t look so good.”

“Hmm, I ate a clown on the way over here. I do feel kind of funny.” (continued)