“Fishcicles,” Anna insisted. Her jaw elevated, a stubborn point hovering above her collar and scarf. Dark eyebrows furrowed into a glare.
Brad sighed and spread his hands flat on the rock wall surrounding the polar bear enclosure. Being on the receiving end of Anna’s glares usually led to worse later. “I’m telling you, fishcicles are not a thing.”
She poked him in the side with a bony finger. “They totally are. It’s an animal enrichment thing. Keeps them from getting bored. They freeze a bunch of fish and give it to the bears. Snack and play all in one. What else would you call it besides a fishcicle?”
“They freeze a lot of things around here,” he muttered. The rock was freezing, just like the rest of him. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “How about we head into the aviary for a while and warm up?”
“You do what you want,” she loftily informed him. “I’m going to see the giraffes.”
He sighed and followed his girlfriend. The path leading to the giraffes was covered in familiar fake hoofprints and bird tracks. Enormous pawprints led to the left, where the big cats prowled behind glass enclosures.
Or did, when it wasn’t well below freezing. Today the cats were huddled into furry communal piles, with no interest in entertaining visitors who should be prey.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like the zoo. He had a membership. There was something new every time, like the escaped flamingo flock or the rhino’s sneezing fit. He just liked it better when it was warm. When fishcicles weren’t a consideration, and ice cream dripped onto his hands, making Anna laugh and give him a sticky-sweet kiss.
Brad caught up to her at the edge of the enclosure. Once they’d seen the giraffes racing in a circle, the seven-foot baby ungainly as it tried to keep up with the longer legs of its herdmates. Today, only a lone giraffe awaited, outstretched head nuzzling sadly at bare branches. Anna had stopped to watch, her chin tucked back into her woolen scarf.
“You realize there are about six other people here at the whole zoo, and they’re all employees?” He flinched at her expression and backed up a step. “I just meant that they aren’t letting people feed the giraffes today.”
“You can if you have any food,” a deep voice said from above his head. “Those crackers the zoo employees sell to gullible tourists are pretty boring. You got any Doritos?”
Anna squeaked. “Did you hear that?”
“I’m pretty sure the giraffe just talked.” Brad felt his eyes burn in the cold air.
“I’ve got a name, you know.” The knobby head tilted, and those giant brown eyes looked annoyed. “The zookeepers call me Zippy, but Mom calls me Zeke.”
“Hi, Zeke.” Anna’s faint voice floated onto the air. “I don’t have any Doritos. Sorry.”
The creature sighed. “That’s all right. You probably didn’t think I liked them. Let me tell you, that cheese dust is amazing.”
“Or that you could talk,” Brad blurted. He wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a frozen hallucination.
The giraffe bent all the way down to look him in the eye. “There’s a lot you probably don’t know about us. Well, let me tell you…”
***
Becky Jones and I traded animal-themed Odd Prompts this week. I had fun with talking giraffes, and tossed aeronautical rabbits her way.
