• Upon my arrival at Accra, the Ghanaian capital, revolutionary militias thought it would be a good idea to poke me with their AK's. Consequently, my tranquilizer darts fell out of my pocket, and were seized, rendering me defenseless against any animal rape. I searched out an experienced marksman to guard me on my journey. I found a local Ashanti man with a large spear on his back and a very large swell in his crotch. As it turned out, he was also a tour guide for the northern safari. We ventured past the woods, and into the barren African landscape.

    Often I couldn't understand him when we conversed about our past adventures. His accent was thick, as if someone had poured marmalade down his throat or something. Just in the middle of one of my stories, his hand jerked out and gripped something behind me, I looked and noticed a snake, its mouth opened, an inch from my neck. He informed me that the snakes of Ghana were always out to penetrate your vital areas, so I should always be on guard. After stopping a few more snakes from killing me, we finally arrived at our destination.

    I noticed a few rather horny elephants in the distance, all seeming bored with each other. Further out, an angry PETA mob chanted and screamed their various slogans. I asked the Ashanti man about them, and in his African accent he told me that they were always there, ready to attack hunters. Then having inquired about the stability of the horny elephants, he assured me that they were harmless. I ventured forth alone to interact with the long-trunked beasts.

    I began petting one elephant, and proceeded to hug around its neck, just as one would with a horse. The elephant grew excited at this new idea of hugging, and thought it would be fun to constrict its trunk around my neck to show affection back. I began to cough, and breathing became very strained. The elephant didn't let up, much like an awkward hug that lasts too long with a co-worker after a long hiatus from work. I then tried to get the Ashanti man's attention with all the squirming and hacking, he was preoccupied with licking the back of an armadillo.

    He then turned the armadillo upside down and proceeded to tickle its belly, while cutely baby-talking to it with phrases such as "who's not in the right continent? you are, yes you are." Believing that perhaps this was an African tradition, I coughed up some blood in the direction of the animal activists, hoping they'd save me. The elephant was still strangling me with its trunk, and another came, noticing my subdued body, and decided to fondle me with its tusks and trunk.

    After a louder gasp for air, one of the PETA members saw me, and told the others, "Look at what that creature is doing over there! How disgusting!" They all rushed over to the elephant molestation scene, finally I could relax my neck muscles a bit, realizing help was on the way. They proceeded to take out bats, and one said "I can't believe this vile creature! Taking advantage of these poor elephants, just look he's making them rape him, he must have some sick elephant fetish." They began beating me with the bats, just as my Ashanti ally noticed, tossed the armadillo to the floor, and charged to save me.

    He ran like a bear, paying attention to nothing else but the kill, with a swift movement of his arm to grip the long African spear on his back, he leaned back, and chucked it, hitting a third elephant that was humping the first. Despite hitting the wrong target, he did do enough to distract the PETA mob. They ran at him, already holding vegetarianism brochures in their hands, eager to convert the African man to herbavorism.

    With renewed faith, and remembering how the Ashanti man dealt with the snakes, I jerked out my hand and locked on to the elephant's tongue. Just as I thought I had beaten it, I pulled down on its tongue, hoping to shock it. Unfortunately, It had salivated and drooled enough over the prospect of strangling a human, that my hand slid right off. I attempted to grab his tongue again, only to have it slide off. I repeated this over and over, without realizing what I was actually doing due to the lack of oxygen reaching my brain from my neck being tied.

    Finally, the elephant's eyes rolled up, loosened its trunk grip on my neck, and fell down, after expelling certain unmentionable elephant juices. I fell to the ground after finally being able to breath. The elephant that was fondling me decided that now humping me was a better idea. The other elephant, now on the ground, proceeded to cuddle up with me like some middle-aged woman with her unwilling husband before/after sex. It laid its heavy fat arm around me.

    Now, not being able to breath well again with a wrinkly elephant leg over my chest. I feared death if the humping elephant lost its balance and stepped on me. Then things would be far worse, I would have some necrophiliac elephant satisfying its needs. Just as I thought I would suffocate, the humping elephant couldn't enjoy himself while the other was cuddling with me, and stabbed his body with its tusks. They began to fight over me. I considered telling them to stop, for dramatic effect like in those teen dramas, but decided I would rather live than increase my ratings on African television.

    As I broke into a run, I noticed the elephants' trunks were tangled with each others, and they began strafing in a circular route. I let out a chuckle of relief, then noticed how badly my clothes were beaten up... They had holes, human blood, elephant blood, and other elephant bodily fluids. If I went back to the airport like this, the militia would kill me for suspicion of defiling their women. I decided to find the Ashanti man and ask him for guidance.

    His body lay dead, blood-ridden and limp, his face covered with "Join PETA" stickers, his pockets jammed full with brochures. Making the conclusion that if he had died for me, he wouldn't mind me taking his clothes, I began to remove them. His body was well built and endowed, with many battle scars, I found it hard to believe that he could outlast beasts in battle but lost to animal activists. His clothes were in much better condition than my own, so after saluting my new dead friend goodbye, I gave one last look at his incredibly large african spear, and headed out in his African garbs.

    Although this experience was far more bloody than the last, it would seem immensely innocent compared to what happened to me with giant spiders in the rain forest of Brazil.