Giraffe – 1, Apocalypse – 0

On my way to work this morning I encountered a giraffe. The giraffe was running up the 405 freeway and keeping pace with the traffic. For 10 minutes, the giraffe trotted (is it a trot?) alongside the car. So I thought I’d introduce myself. It’s not often one finds the opportunity, you know.

I said, “Where are you heading?”

“To work.” And the giraffe looks over at me, its eyes a milky black. “Aren’t we all?”

“Maybe. What’s your name?”

“Mags, you?”

“Non. Like Kay En Oh Dub uh U En. Mags short for something?”

“No, just Mags.”

“I wasn’t going to say it, but I’m finding it difficult to hold back….”

“Just say it.”

“…you’re on the freeway. Shouldn’t you be at the zoo or something?”

“I was. But a few years ago I left. I wasn’t cut out for display purposes.”

“What do you do now?”

“Insurance.”

“You sell insurance?”

“A charmed life.”

“What type of insurance?”

“Rapture.”

“What?”

“I sell apocalypse insurance.”

“To insure against fire and brimstone?”

“And zombies and angels and demons.”

“But isn’t that the end anyhow? What’s insurance going to do?”

“It’s peace of mind.”

“Do you also give out AK47s?”

“Just the insurance.”

“Zombies aren’t afraid of paper cuts.”

“Perhaps. But our vision of the apocalypse is the one in books and movies.”

“So.”

“So it may be wrong. Instead of one Mad Max, we may have thousands. Or millions.”

“And if it doesn’t happen at all.”

“That’s the nature of insurance now isn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

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2 thoughts on “Giraffe – 1, Apocalypse – 0

  1. Jessica says:

    I love Mags! This is great.

  2. Thanks Jessica. 🙂 I love Mags too!

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