[BERLIN: A Luxury Executive Premium polar bear enclosure. KNUT relaxes on a Le Corbusier recliner carved out of rock, doing bicep curls with a protesting baby seal clutched in his fist]
KNUT: [into Bluetooth headset] Ya, Jerry, the death threat was the clincher, man. Mom rejects me, bro’ rejects me, then “Big bad animal rights activists want to kill the ickle wickle baby bear” and suddenly the World wants me to share their bed with them. I’m hotter than July. Come to think of it, I really am hotter than July. Where’s that dumb zookeeper? [He wafts a paw in the general direction of a pissed-off looking German with a beard] Hey, Thom-ass! Crank up the AC, bitch!
So, Jerry, you heard any more from Coca-Cola?
Ten lousy million? Who do they think they’re dealing with here? Michael Jackson? I don’t get off my floe for less than twelve.
[A capuchin in a cage nearby curls his lip in response. He is squatting in front of a Remington and a pile of typing paper.]
KNUT: Take a letter, banana breath.
[The capuchin yawns and winds the paper up a notch.]
[KNUT begins dictating:]
Sehr geehrter Herr Buffett,
You and me, we know business, right? We know money. You and me, we know you own these jive-talking middle management suit-stuffers. So you tell them to start negotiations at a realistic level or go fuck themselves with one of those funny shaped bottles.
Mit furry freundlichen Grüßen and all that shit
[KNUT stretches out his free paw and reaches into the COCO’s cage, yanking the paper out of its roller and pulling it through the bars. He begins reading:]
“So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes…”
KNUT: What the fuck is this shit?! Every fucking time the agency sends one of you jungle muppets all I get is fucking bad poetry. I’m gonna get me one of those cats with the opposable muthafuckin’ thumbs—not that I’d trust the shrunken fuckers with a rotten tuna. Ain’t that what they say, Jerry? “Never hire help that’s cuter or from the same level of the food chain.”
Look, man, I’ll call you back. I got asses to kick. Tell Kate until she bins the indie kid and gets herself clean it’s no more ice-cube action from her big German bear. And let Pixar know that I want John Goodman to voice me or I’m gonna auction off the option.
Yeah, Love ya too, baby. Ciao.
Pooter makes an excellent joke inside an excellent piece. What the fuck is this shit?! Every fucking time the agency sends one of you jungle muppets all I get is fucking bad poetry….
I’ve just caught this and have to say it is one of the sharpest. wittiest pieces of writing I’ve come across….on or off the internet.
Thank you. It’s a sad reflection on the Internet that the first thing I did after reading your comment was check that you weren’t a spammer.
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