The Hippo/Moose Ass Munch Incident

Several adorable little animals adorn our small cubicle-space here at the Doodleplex Command auxiliary office. There’s a cute little Frankenstein with a crutch made out of masking tape; a floppy monkey with long arms and velcro palms; a small, life-like hippo with gaping jaws, and a soft moose wearing a football jersey. It’s all very cute, very innocent, very wholesome. It’s a family-friendly cube.

Or it was, until the Violator arrived.

I walked into the office one day to find the moose and the hippo engaged in certain salacious activities that I hesitate to describe here, for fear of offending my younger readers. Let’s just say they were having … relations … of a certain … um … carnal nature; not at all the behavior one would expect of cuddly desk creatures. I was confused, and a little taken aback, but I assumed that it was just an accident; perhaps I’d knocked the moose over in my haste to leave the night before, and it had landed on … er … where it had landed.

But the next day found Hippo and Moose in an even viler position, the sort of tableau one would expect to find in the hippo edition of Penthouse magazine, or perhaps on the glittering ramparts in the moose room of Studio 54, but certainly not on top of a filing cabinet in a professional office environment.

Day by day, week by week, I arrived to progressively more shocking animal arrangements, testaments to both the lasciviousness and the creativity of the Violator. Last week, a Buck Rogers starfighter got in on the action, thrusting its die-cast prong into … well … participating in what was surely the first moose/hippo/spaceship orgy in the history of sexual perversion. I wept as I extricated these poor innocents from their unholy embrace, and cursed the Violator’s name.

Last week, he struck again, as the picture below attests. He’d added small plinths to the mix, and ratcheted the level of prurience up to heretofore unexplored levels.

But I suspect that this might be the last I see of the Violator. He left a calling card this time, finally revealing his identity. I rushed to confront him, but I was too late: he had already escaped. His office was empty of everything but an origami menagerie of tiny mooses, hundreds of them lined up in an orgy of paper perversion, spelling the word “Goodbye” along the floor.

So my desk animals can breathe a sigh of relief. But somewhere out there, a clutch of teddy bears, or a circle of fuzzy bunnies, or a harem of adorable little puppies are about to find themselves in positions they have never, ever dreamed of before.