El Llama Doloroso
Yeah, don’t look so surprised. Of course I’m a sad llama.
You might thinks it’s all bounding about and being carefree up here among the fog clouds and jagged mountain peaks above the Urubamba River. But I tell ya, it ain’t so.
Why am I sad? Why is my whole species sad? I’ll give you four words: fruit, of, the, loom. That’s right: Fruit of the Loom. We just happen to grow on our backs and bellies and hindquarters that really springy elastic fiber that Fruit of the Loom loves to weave into their underwear waistbands.
Let me give you two more words: wal, mart. Yep. Walmart. Just how many packages of 8-for-the-price-of-7 Fruit of the Loom underwear do you think your average Walmart manages to push out the door each year? Times god-knows-how-many Walmarts?
And, when we end up getting shorn of all that nice springy fiber on our backs and bellies and hindquarters, guess what happens up here at about 8,000 feet above sea level, with winter storms rolling in. That’s right. A whole lot of frozen llama tuchus is what happens.
So why not let us keep some springy underwear fiber on our own bare bottoms for a change, huh?
And don’t even get me started on that paddle-ball string thing . . .
Know why this is all still national parks? Because no sane person can navigate these mountains and valleys!
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