I Like Hippos

I, for one, am not ashamed to admit my love of hippos. Their ginormous, rotund bodies are truly a spectacle, swirling all around in the murky waters of the marsh - enticing and frightening all at the same time. Their glistening teeth are so smooth and attractive, drawing any observer's gaze into its wide, playful eyes. Their blubberful bodies are massive portraits of beauty and grace, like a lollipop that is half-eaten or a piece of cheese that someone has stepped on. To be honest, I would like to have a love affair with a hippo, to be fully committed to his/her every want and need. I can just see myself with a 600-lb. hippo, frolicking in the sun and/or having a picnic in the dewy meadows of Camp Obakneowierwreiwrweriee and/or sharing a bear claw and/or cherry danish. I also think about dressing a hippo up in beige makeup and a powdered wig. Having fun with a hippo is all I think about, all I dream about, all I feel every single moment of every single day. Can't you feel it? Just to be sitting there, giving a hippo a back rub, caught in the moment - this is what I live for. This is it. Now, some people might frown upon my secret desires, but to them I say: Don't discriminate against me just because I love hippos. My love is pure and natural, a genuine love which transcends space and time. Some people might harbor feelings for their spouse or child, but not me - I like hippos instead.