Free Krakow Melt by Daniel Allen Cox Page B

małpy were picking wszy out of each other’s fur. Baboons flashed Crayola ass shows of Hot Magenta and Cerulean.
    The sheep says “meow.”
    There were no dogs not posing as timberwolves.
    We passed the pigs. I was about to explain to Dorota that a pig tongue has triple the taste buds a human’s does, and that if a pig were to fly, other pigs wouldn’t be able to see it. Swine, the darlings, are incapable of looking up. But I kept quiet, unsure if she believed even half of what I told her.
    “Where would Ninio go if he escaped?” she asked.
    “He’d probably wander southeast to Moldova, and then the Ukraine forest. Fossils show that the Tiraspol species comes from the area.”
    “How do you know all this?”
    “That’s what the tabloids say. They propose that the zoo kick him out.”
    “What if we break him out?” she said. “You have a lot of experience with fire.”
    “You want to see me in jail, don’t you?”
    “No, but we have to take action before someone poisons him.”
    It thrilled me that she was getting infected with my love for fire. I ached to know exactly how much, but you can’t just ask someone that question flat-out.
    “Are you proposing a controlled blaze?” I said.
    “Don’t be gutless. We’re not here to do half-assed work.” She dangled her complicity in front of me like a piece of gorzkiej czekolady . “As long as we don’t kill any animals. Let’s survey the area first, then discuss the details.”
    “Unless you’re going to scope your way out of a rescue mission.”
    “Sweet Dorota, I’m not afraid of fire, and if you want me to prove it to you, I’ll light your hair like a fuse, right here, right now.”
    “You’re cute,” she said.
    Geese gabbed and a mob of emus painted the fence with urine.
    “Does Ninio live in a spaceship?” she asked, pointing straight ahead.
    There it was. The Elephant House, swooping arches forming a three-storey dome, a pine and glass hill rising out of the earth. It was as opulent as a brand-new football stadium and as combustible as a helium balloon.
    Grzehad whined in the Rzeczpospolita , “We were supposed to have a herd, but as Ninio prefers male friends over females, how will he produce offspring?”
    He was being polite, of course. What he really meant, was, “Spending thirty-seven million złotych was supposed to guarantee the future of the species, not provide panoramic viewing for a depraved theatre of anal sex.”
    Yes, the Elephant House was now sheltering the enemy.
    It was crazy nice. There was a lake, a waterfall, and even a fake African village with restaurants and coffee shops made of thatched huts. The apex of the dome had a nave and transept, which made it look like a distended version of St Mary’s Basilica.
    Hypothetically speaking, it would burn quite evenly.
    Ninio was built like a war elephant, with sun-weathered skin impervious to a variety of spears and harpoons. Throughout the history of battle, punks like him were sent ahead of the troops to trample mercilessly through the lines of the “other,” wielding unbreakable tusks to gore and disembowel with, lodged in 7,000 kilos of unmovable meat.
    It could be a personals ad, if it weren’t so intimidating.
    In case you haven’t noticed, I spend hours reading up on all kinds of shit.
    Dorota dangled her milky hand through the bars of the viewing gallery. It looked like a white candy cane with all the red sucked off, save for the pomegranate she was holding.
    Ninio saw it and trundled over. It was a combo too delicious for a warrior to resist. Dorota’s arm was as bad as gone.
    In the Battle of Gaugamela, Alexander the Great sent a phalanx of fifteen war elephants ahead of him and his army. The Persian troops trembled so beautifully that Alexander later made a special sacrifice to the god of fear during his victory dinner.
    Dorota took a bite of the apple and let the juice trickle down her finger.
    Ninio broke into a gait.
    Jazzberry Jam means, “Stamping you