The Luscious Lemur

I have often wished for a taste of lemur. A mere morsel would do, for a lemur glutton I am not. I daresay few people have had the opportunity to sample a bit of lemur and, out of those, few took up the challenge. So, you see, indulging in lemur substance would place me in company with elites. I would be able to approach complete strangers and inform them of my gastronomic prowess.

“I’ve sampled lemur,” I would say, my face slowly expanding in a wide, stupid smile. My intended victim would look startled and then back away, looking furtively for a convenient avenue of escape. I would not let them flee so easily, however, choosing instead to follow their retreat. I would continue smiling widely and rub my hands in a circular motion, just to show them I meant no harm. “Yes,” I would say. “Lemur. L-l-l-l-leeeemur.”

Later, I would dream of having even more lemur treats, finally giving up my reverie to struggle against the restricting canvas now encasing my finely chiseled body. How sad that society has not yet learned to accept the eccentricities of a true lemur connoisseur. And how sorry they will be when I transform them all into lemurs.

Once freed from my bonds, I would request an outing in the park. Using both cunning and brute strength, I would overpower the guard and tie his feet and hands with supple bamboo. Using organic materials, such as tree bark and grass, I would construct a vehicle with a ludicrously mild effect on the environment. Reminded of my duty to future generations, I also vow to restrict my own personal emissions and, laughing, curse all bean burritos as the food of demons.

Chucklingly confident I had reduced my carbon footprint to the size of a baby step, I would fill the vehicle’s fuel tank with mulch and drive away in search of only the most succulent lemurs.