Go on, brag a little (or a lot). We won’t judge.
Turning people into safari animals. It was once a
blessing...recently, I feel it has become a curse.
My friends didn't understand it. "Who wants to be turned into a
safari animal?", they would ask, and so I invited them to watch me
as I work.
That was where it all went wrong.
Clients would come in, asking to be turned into a lion, or a
giraffe, or sometimes even a hippopotamus. I'd ask for a gold coin
donation, and then I'd get to work. Ten minutes later, there would
be a small pile of clothes on the ground and a new animal stalking
the streets of Melbourne.
At first, my friends were weirded out. But then they saw it - the
joy that my clients got from the transformation, from the change.
As a safari animal, they never had to worry about mortgage rates or
pick-up lines - they just had to follow their new animal instincts,
living life in a way that we humans can't even comprehend.
Inevitably, one of my friends - Tom - decided he wanted to try it.
He asked me to help him leave his human life and see how he fared
as a zebra. I was reluctant - no children, no friends, that was my
rule - but Tom was very persuasive. He told me about the rough time
he'd been having, and how seeing me work had awoken something
inside of him. He offered me anything - his car, his house, his
mint condition Charizard foil.
Finally, I yielded. I told him I'd transform him, but only for a
gold coin donation (I can't accept anything more than that, for
reasons too complex to go into here) and the promise that if he
wasn't happy, he'd return.
Tom never came back.
After that, it was Gavin. Then Kate. Laura Jane, Andrew, Eden, Tom
(different Tom)...all of them wanted to be transformed, to abandon
humanity and become safari animals.
I did it, of course. Maybe I'm just a sucker, or maybe it was the
look of desperation in their eyes. Their two-dollar coins (my
friends are generous) clinked into the jar, their clothes fell to
the floor, and they scampered (or, in Kate's case, flew) away,
never to be seen again.
Whenever I make a new friend, I have one condition: You can ask me
about my hobby, but you can never watch me work. I've lost too many
friends already - I don't think I could handle losing another.