Jimmy was a giraffe.
The other giraffes weren’t very nice to Jimmy because Jimmy didn’t have a long neck like the rest of them.
They teased Jimmy and called him names, like “Chode”, “Short stuff” and “n00b-neck”.
One day Jimmy was being beaten up by the other giraffes and having a cry, when all of a sudden a redhead appeared from the clouds and descended from heaven, only to immediately return as she had heavenly duties to attend to (God needs his morning paper you know)
Jimmy sniffed and wandered away into the desert, where he ran into Rozencrantz and Frank Einstien personified as some loveable Disney characters.
They all sung a song and danced happily around, frolicking and laughing as they flew off into the sunset.
The other giraffes, seeing as they had long necks, could see everything that was happening and didn’t liked it. They called upon his highness sir Santa Claus and said “Right, see here old chap! We’ve got the accent, you’ve got the power” Santa claus laughed, and his beer-gut wobbled like jelly. “Say no more my good friends”
And so Santa jumped in his humvee and whipped his reindeer until they made a revving noise that sounded sufficiently hardcore. He slammed down the hammer and did a massive burn out while leaning out the window, wacking on some shades and going “Oh yeah”
And santa clause was never seen again in that part of the world.
Meanwhile, Jimmy had not been procrastinating, he had been working out. Hard. He returned to the tribe with abs that shone gold, well-hung and with a neck that could split any giraffette in half. The female giraffes loved Jimmy and his neck, Jimmy got some, and everyone lived happily every after.
And whenever Jimmy was asked what was the secret to success he always replied “You gotta be long brother. You gotta be loooooong.”
Alex Herlihy – 2010