Not the real thing, of course, which would have put a strain on our closet and shelf space. I’m talking about figurines and related tchotchkes. Cutesy-poo crap.
For a while, the ever-mounting pile of Hippo-Related Stuff threatened to become an issue, but over the years, SWMBO’s interest in Things Hippopotamic gradually waned, no doubt displaced by more practical items - like shoes.
But after reading Eric’s disquisition on the Hippopotamus, I suspect the Quietus Permanente has been placed on any further additions to the collection:
...have you ever seen a close-up of a hippo's face?... great bloody hell... the intricacies and intermingling of horrors expressed on their grimaces is almost overwhelming... pores clogged and bulging with swamp-water puss... hair follicles smudged with pieces of the last crocodile lunch… shades of brown, pink, green, and deathly blue run down their pock-marked necks... tiny carbuncled ears that flick incessantly... cold beady eyes... gaping nostrils jutting out from their purplish hide as if a corpse left in the sun too long had cracked open to reveal the red, working innards... sharp, misshapen, fang-like teeth... wiry whiskers stubbling out from their fatboy jaw-line... Jesus, what an evolutionary train wreck...Poetry, that.
And here’s some more. An old childhood favorite that will perhaps inspire us to put some of these revolting, dangerous beasts out of their misery...
I shoot the Hippopotamus- Hilaire Belloc
With bullets made of platinum.
Because if I use leaden ones,
His hide is sure to flatten ’em.
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