We owe Zia a thank you for the pictures. They’re very good. The only extra thing I could wish from them is more Zia in them. I mean, she’s the prettiest thing around, prettier than sheep even, as Lele said when he was pretending to be a stranger from New Zealand, as we waited in line for the tram.
There was a lot of misbehavior on the tram, but it wasn’t all ours. See the hair and hand of that older lady next to Lele? She’s no lady, folks. She kept patting my hand and trying to hold it. She obviously wanted me. But can you blame her?
She, surprisingly, wasn’t offended by the things we were saying to each other, but I suspect that’s only because she didn’t speak English. We kept up a steady patter of complete lies, for the sake of the children near us. “They let you ride the giraffes but only if you REALLY BEG your parents.”
I think the father in front of us had almost had it when Zia tried to hand his eight year old her cup of coffee. He might have said something if he wasn’t so completely hypnotised by my cleavage. Of course, he wasn’t the only one.
Lele and I were surprised to learn that the rules don’t apply both ways.
Anyway, we rolled on. Also, crawled. Which really freaked out a family of Asian tourists, who sat down, thinking that perhaps that was the proper way to ride an escalator here.
(Told you Zia is pretty.) (She’s even prettier when she’s lying, ’cause then her eyes sparkle and her lip twitches ever so slightly.) (More on that later.)
We crawled into the thickest part of the bushes, waited until someone passed by and crawled out, saying “It’s really odd that they don’t show that shortcut on the map, it’s so much quicker to Polar Bear Plunge that way.”
You’ll note an interesting adaptation I’ve developed. Camouflage. Unless you look very closely, you’d swear that’s Lele and a pretensious Frenchman in those bushes, wouldn’t you?
My superior camoflage skills allowed us to get into a cage. Ssssshhhhhh. Don’t tell.
Near the gorilla enclosure, there is a grouping of statues. And the statues are …………. oddly posed, let’s say. I don’t think it takes a filthy mind such as mine to notice it.
But the sign. The sign really put it over the edge.
They were right. The statues were HAWT. Don’t judge us. You would have been turned on too.
We stopped by a gift shop and Zia asked (with a lip twitch) the girl working behind the counter where we’d go to turn in an exotic animal we’d accidently acquired. Lele meowed.
The girl walked backwards away from us, slowly, saying she’d have to ask her manager. I doubted she’d come back at all, but she very bravely did, telling us she didn’t know.
The guy at the caricature drawing place didn’t know either, and looked very nervous when, after Zia asked, I opened my large purse.
In the end, we found the perfect place for Lele ourselves.
The petting zoo.
