EP 329: Getting Even in Gomba; The Dog And The Leopard; The Leopard, The Hare, And The Monkey (Baskerville)

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Getting Even in Gomba 

There was a battle going on around the village of Gomba. 

In the village there was a lame man who had never walked. Every morning he was carried out into the sunny courtyard and every evening he was carried back to his house; but the battle was raging, and no one remembered the lame man. As he lay in his house he saw a blind man passing by, and a sudden thought struck him. He called to the blind man: 

“Come here, my friend, I have something important to tell you.” The blind man groped his way with his long stick till he stood before the lame man, who said: 

“Listen, my friend, no one has remembered us during the battle, and assuredly we shall die, you who are blind, and I who am lame; but I have a plan; Take me on your back, and we will escape from the village. I will be eyes to you, and you shall be feet to me.” 

The blind man agreed to the plan and hoisted the lame man on his back, and they escaped from Gomba. When they reached safety the blind man said : ” Give me a reward, for I have saved your life.” 

But the lame man said, ” Not so, it was I who saved yours.” They spoke hot and angry words to each other, and at last they decided to take the case to the Chief’s Council. But when the Chief heard it, he said: There is no case; the lame man was eyes to the blind, and the blind man was feet to the lame, both have saved their lives, which in itself is a great reward. The words are finished.” 

And now this has become a proverb in Uganda. When two men quarrel and both of them are in the right (or in the wrong) the people say, ” It is a case of the Quits of Gomba.” 

The End

THE DOG AND THE LEOPARD 

Once upon a time a leopard who had several cubs hired a dog to be a nurse to them, but she was very unkind to the dog, who was miserable. The dog was always thin and hungry, she only ate what was left over when the leopard and her cubs had finished a meal, and that was never much. One day when the leopard was out visiting, and the dog was left at home with the cubs, she found some bones in a corner  and fell upon them ravenously. One of the cubs crept up to look, and a bone hit him in the eye and put the eye out. When the dog saw what she had done she was very frightened and ran away into the forest. She ran on until she came to the house of the old wizard, and then she thought, “I will go and have my fortune told.” 

So she went into the house and told the wizard what had happened. Now, the old wizard told fortunes by cards, and his cards were bits of buffalo hide, sewn over with cowry shells and beads. He got them out of his goatskin bag and was just going to tell the dog’s fortune when he saw the leopard coming down the forest path, and he whispered to the dog: 

“There is the leopard coming, climb up into that basket which hangs from the roof and lie very still.” 

So the dog climbed up into the basket in which the wizard kept the bananas he was ripening for beer, and lay quietly down. In a few minutes the leopard arrived, and poured out her story to the wizard. “Tell my fortune,” she said, “that I may know if I shall catch my enemy.” The wizard took out his cards and spoke.” You will catch your enemy in the spring rains, if she goes out in the rain you will catch her. In the sunshine she will be safe, the rain will be her downfall. I speak to those that are above, I speak to those that are below, let her who has ears hear, let her who hears understand.” The leopard thanked the wizard and gave him a beautiful white hen as a present, and went away home to her cubs. When the dog came down from the basket the wizard asked: 

“Did you understand my warning ?” And the dog said, “I understood, sir; I will never go out in the rain.” 

The months passed, and one day when the dog was out in the forest a heavy shower came on. The spring rains had begun. The dog ran in the direction of home, but suddenly she saw an anthill by the road side from which the ants were beginning to fly. The dog stopped for a moment to eat a few, and then, as the succulent creatures poured out of the anthill, she lapped them up with her tongue and forgot all about the wizard’s warning, and did not see the leopard creeping down the path. The leopard sprang upon the dog and killed her. 

And from that day leopards and dogs are enemies, and a constant battle rages between the tribes, for the leopards remember how a dog blinded a cub, and the dogs remember the vengeance of the mother leopard in the spring rains. 

The End

THE LEOPARD, THE HARE, AND THE MONKEY 

Once upon a time a leopard and a hare lived together in one house. One day the leopard said, “Let us go to the village and steal goats.” The hare did not want to steal a goat, but he wanted the leopard to go and bring some meat, so he thought of a trick, and agreed to what the leopard said. They started out in opposite directions, but the hare soon doubled back and followed the leopard who crept up the hillside towards a goat which was grazing by itself, and sprang upon it. Then the hare shouted, and the leopard, thinking the goatherds had seen him, dropped the goat and ran away. 

The hare dragged the goat under some bushes, and after waiting till all was safe and quiet, took it home. The leopard was very surprised and rather sulky. When the meat was nearly cooked the hare went outside the house and shouted. The leopard thought the herds men had followed them, and he dashed out, and fled to the forest, and did not return till the morning, by that time the hare had eaten up all the meat, but he told the leopard that the herdsmen had come and taken it all away. 

This happened several times, till a monkey, who had watched them, told the leopard of the hare’s trick, and that evening, instead of running to the forest, he only ran a little way and came back, and found the hare just sitting down to feast. Although he was very frightened, the hare managed to slip past the leopard and jumped into an anthill which had a large hole in the top. He crouched down and was just out of reach of the leopard’s paw. The ants make their home of very hard red earth, so that no storms or rain can wash it away, and the leopard knew better than to risk breaking all his claws trying to dig out the hare, so he shouted: 

Foolish creature, I will fill up the hole with fire and burn you inside it; do not think you shall escape my vengeance.” He called to a crow who was sitting on a tree nearby, “Come and guard my prisoner while I collect firewood.” 

But the crow never does anything for any one, he is too disagreeable; and besides, he did not see why the hare should be burnt in the anthill, so he answered: “I can’t sit in the sun, the dust gets into my throat and makes me hoarse. I can’t guard your prisoner, find someone else.” Just then the monkey who had told the leopard of the hare’s trick came along. 

“Oh, my dear friend!” said the leopard, “come and guard the wicked hare who you helped me to catch. I am going to burn him in the anthill.” 

So the monkey sat on the top of the anthill while the leopard went to collect firewood. 

As the monkey sat there he heard the hare munching something. “What are you eating?” he asked. 

“The white ants are swarming, and I am eating them as they come up,” said the hare. “I have never eaten such beautiful ants, they are a miracle of creation.” 

“Give me some,” said the monkey, “Lean down into the hole,” said the hare. “I bear no malice, and he who eats alone has no joy. I will give you a handful.” The monkey leant down into the hole, and the hare threw a handful of dust up into his eyes. The monkey sprang back and rolled off the anthill, and the hare jumped out of the hole and ran away. The crow, sitting on a nearby branch, laughed until his throat ached. The monkey wiped the dust out of his eyes and looked ruefully at the anthill. 

“What shall I do when the leopard returns?” he asked the crow. 

“Put colocynth seeds into the hole,” said the crow, ” and put some rubbish on them, and tell the leopard you have begun to build a fire for him.” 

So the monkey did this, and when the leopard came back with the firewood, he piled it up over the hole and they set it alight. A colocynth seed gave a loud pop! 

“What is that?” said the leopard. 

“One of his eyes is burnt,” said the monkey solemnly. 

Another seed gave a pop! “That’s his other eye” croaked the crow. But now the seeds were all thoroughly hot, and they all began popping together, and the crow burst out laughing, and the monkey swung himself up into the tree and laughed until his sides ached, while the leopard fumed with rage, for he knew the monkey was playing some trick. He had to wait until the fire burnt out and the smoke blew away before he could look down into the hole, and then he saw only ashes and twigs and knew that the hare had escaped. 

And from that day leopards have hated monkeys, and kill them if they meet them in the forest ; and the monkeys sleep high up in the trees among the branches that are too slender to bear the leopard’s weight, if he should think of climbing up in the night when he goes out hunting. 

The End

Source: ⁠The flame tree and other folk-lore stories from Uganda by Baskerville, Rosetta Gage (Harvey)

EP 331: The Enchanted Pomegranate Branch and the Beauty (Kunos)

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The Enchanted Pomegranate Branch and the Beauty

There was once a Padishah who, while being very bored, decided to take a trip with his Vezir. Before setting out, however, he called his Vezir and said: “So that our departure may be a secret, find a man that looks like me and set him on the throne.” The Vezir asked how he could be found. ” Let’s walk around the town for a few days and we shall find one,” said the Padishah. Disguising themselves, they put the plan into action.

Entering a pub for some refreshment, they saw a drunk who was the spitting image of the Padishah. So, they took the publican aside and told him to “let the man drink until he was drunker than a boiled owl, and when night came to throw him out into the street”. This was done, and at midnight the Padishah sent the Vezir to secretly bring the man to the palace. There the fellow was washed, put in the royal robes, and laid out on the Padishah’s own bed. Now everything was ready for the monarch and his Vezir to start their journey.

When the drunken fellow awoke the next morning he saw that he was in the King’s palace. “What did I do?” he asked himself. “Maybe I am dreaming, or perhaps I am dead and in heaven.” After these reflections he clapped his hands, and immediately servants brought him a washbasin and a cup of water. Having washed, he drank coffee, and lit his chibouque. “I must be Padishah,” he mused. As it was Friday the servants begged him to be pleased to say where the guest should be met. In the quarter where he used to live, was a djami or orator, so he decided that the conversation should be held there, and all hurried away to get ready.

A fortnight had elapsed since the drunkard had left his own home, and when his wife heard that the Padishah was coming to the local djami, she prepared a petition, which she handed to him as he was leaving the mosque after the conversation. The Padishah took the petition and read as follows: “Oh Padishah! I have a husband who does nothing but drink night and day. He has not been home now for fifteen days, nor sent me any money for provisions, so that we are dying of hunger.” The Padishah immediately gave orders that the woman’s dwelling should be pulled down and rebuilt on a better plan, and also that a monthly pension of five hundred gold pieces should be given to her. This was done.

The new Padishah had three enemies: the innkeeper who threw him out into the street when he was drunk, the butcher who had beaten him because he could not pay for the meat, and a restaurant owner who wouldn’t feed him. He gave orders that they should be beheaded, and this was done.

In the meantime the real Padishah and his Vezir had already travelled a considerable distance. One day, they came to a valley, where they decided to stop and rest for a while. In a stream that flowed through the valley they found an apple, which they ate. Now the Padishah recollected that when setting out he had taken an oath to do nothing that was forbidden while on his journey. This gave him uneasiness, since he had no means of knowing whether it was permitted to eat the apple or not. ” There is nothing for it,” said the Padishah, “but to go to the owner and ask permission now.”

As they went along they came across a farmer ploughing. Greeting him, they told him about the apple, and when the story was finished, the farmer showed them an orchard with apple-trees from which the apple they had eaten had fallen. He also pointed out the house of the owner of the orchard, and there the Padishah and his Vezir went immediately. They knocked on the door, which was opened by an old woman, and to her also they related the incident of the apple. The old woman, saying that the apple-trees belonged to her daughter, went to consult her about the matter. The daughter sent back a message that if the man would marry her, permission to eat the apple was granted. The Padishah considered the question and finally agreed to make the maiden his wife.

When she heard this the old woman said: “Then I must tell you that my daughter’s legs and arms are crooked, she is bald, and altogether so ugly that no man can bear the sight of her.” “Don’t worry,” replied the Padishah, “I won’t break my promise.” He told his Vezir to prepare a wedding for that very day, as the next morning they must be off again. They now went to a neighboring pub to prepare for the wedding.

As soon as the maiden was presented to him, the Padishah was wonderstruck. “My Sultana,” he exclaimed, “your mother said you were ugly; while, behold, you are the loveliest creature in the world!” The maiden said that her mother was accustomed to always speak of her that way.

The wedding took place, and the next day the Vezir reminded the Padishah that they must proceed. The monarch, however, replied that he had made up his mind to remain at the inn four or five more days. As a matter of fact, he remained forty days, and on the forty-first he said to his wife: “My Sultana, I cannot remain here any longer; I must go. If you should have a son, when he is grown up, bind this amulet to his arm, send him into such and such a country, and tell him to inquire for Osman and Hamza.” These were the names the Padishah and his Vezir had decided to use upon their travels.

They mounted their horses and rode away, not stopping until they reached home. After arriving at the palace, the first thing they did was to get rid of the fake Padishah. So at midnight, while he slept, they put him into a basket and set him down by the pub where they found him a few months ago. When the man woke up, he found himself lying in the street, “I must be dreaming,” he said, and closed his eyes again. Then he clapped his hands, whereupon the new publican appeared, asking: “Who is there?” The drunkard told him to stop joking or he would be hanged immediately.

“Open the door; I am the Padishah,” he called loudly. The landlord opened the door, and seeing the drunkard kicked him away. The latter in a towering rage exclaimed: “You rascal; I am the Padishah, and I will certainly hang you for this.” In reply the innkeeper took a stick and beat the self styled Padishah until he was in a lather, afterwards he was taken to the madhouse.

Meanwhile the Padishah said to his Vezir: “Oh, lala, we brought the man to the palace, and after he had served our purpose we cast him away. Go and see what has become of him.” So the Vezir went to the publican and learned that the drunk had gone mad and been taken to the asylum. Going to the lunatic asylum, the Vezir heard the man shouting that he was the Padishah. The Vezir told him not to say that he was the Padishah, or it would get worse. Reading the tea leaves, the man went to the owner of the pub and said: “Sir, I am a drunk and not the Padishah.” After this confession he was no longer insane, and so he was set free.

His first thought was to go home, but hardly had his wife set eyes on him than she cried: “Get out of my sight, you graceless fellow. Where have you been all this time? You have heard no doubt that the Padishah has built me a new house and granted me a pension, and so now you come to share it!” The woman would not have let him in, but the Vezir happened to be passing by and heard the angry fighting. Going up to her he said: “Let your husband in, or I will take everything from you.” Recognizing the Vezir, the woman’s courage failed her and she let her husband into the house.

Leaving this worthy couple in peace, we will now return to the owner of the orchard. In due time a son was born to her. When he grew up his mother, remembering the Padishah’s instructions, called her son to her. “Your father,” she said, “left you this amulet, saying that when you grow up, you were to go to his country and ask for Osman and Hamza.” Upon hearing this the youth took the amulet and prepared for his journey.

On the way he met the farmer, with whom he rested a little. During their conversation the farmer told the youth that Osman was his friend, and he advised him not to go alone. The boy agreed to take the farmer’s son with him, and the two set out again. By and by they came to a well, and being overcome with thirst the farmer’s son said to the youth: “I will let you down first, so that you may drink; afterwards you let me down.” 

The Shahzada accordingly was lowered into the well, but when he had quenched his thirst and was ready to return to the top, the farmer’s son called down to him: “Swear you will say that I am the son of Osman and that you are the son of the farmer, and promise never to reveal the truth, or I will leave you down there.” He had no choice, so the Shahzada promised and was pulled up to the surface.

They went on and in a few weeks they arrived at the capital of the Padishah’s kingdom. They wandered about the town asking for Osman and Hamza, and when the Padishah heard, he ordered the boys to be brought before him. They were taken to the palace, and when the King asked which one was his son, the Shahzada pointed to the other and named himself as the son of the farmer. So the farm boy was taken into the palace as a prince, and the other given a job in the court.

Once, in a dream, the fake Prince saw a dervish who presented to him the Princess and gave him the chalice of love. From that time he was a changed man. He couldn’t eat nor drink, sleep nor rest, and he became pale and weak. Physicians and hodjas were called in one after another, but none of them did him any good; they did not understand his illness, and so could not find a remedy.

One day the false Prince said to the Padishah: “My father, physicians and hodjas cannot help me. My illness is a love for the princess.” The King was frightened at the youth’s strange words and feared for his reason. “You must not think of her; it is dangerous,” said the monarch; “her love would bring only death.” 

But the young man continued to get thinner and paler. The Padishah asked him  whether he wanted anything, but the answer was invariably the same: “The Princess.” 

The King felt that his son would surely die if he said no and that he would be the cause of his death. So trusting that Allah would have mercy upon him, he was about to agree to his son’s travel, when the fake Prince said: “I do not want to go; let’s send the farmer’s son to get her for me.” The Padishah immediately sent for the farmer’s son, and told him to go in search of the Princess and to bring her to marry the Shahzada. 

The next day the youth set off in search of the Princess. After some time he came to the seashore, where he saw a little fish floundering on the sand. The creature asked him to throw it back into the water, and he agreed; but first the fish offered him three of its scales, saying: “When you are in trouble, burn one of these scales.” Accepting them gratefully, the youth threw the fish back into the sea and went his way.

Coming to a great plain he met an ant, who begged for his help, as it was going to a wedding and would be too late to join its companions. The young man picked up the ant and carried it to its companions. Before leaving, the insect offered him a piece of its wing, saying: “When in trouble burn this piece of my wing.”

Dispirited and weary, the fake farmer’s son at length reached a thick forest, where he saw a small bird struggling with a large snake. The bird asked for help from the youth, who promptly cut the snake in two. In return the bird gave him three of her feathers, saying: “When in trouble burn one of these.”

Once more he went over mountains and sea until he came to a large city. He was now in the kingdom of the father of the Princess. Going directly to the palace, he begged in the name of Allah that the Padishah would give him his daughter in marriage. 

“First you must accomplish three tasks,” said the Padishah, “and then you may speak to my daughter.” The monarch then took a ring, cast it into the sea, and told the Prince to bring it back again in three days or his life would be forfeit.

The Prince thought deeply, and recollecting the three fish-scales he burnt one of them. Immediately the little fish appeared and said: “What is your command, my Sultan?” 

“The ring of the Princess has fallen into the sea; fetch it for me,” replied the Prince. The fish went after the ring, but could not find it; down it went a second time, without success; diving a third time, it went right down, down to the bottom of the seventh sea and brought up a fish. The Prince slit its stomach and found the ring inside. He gave it back to the Padishah, who handed it to his daughter. 

In the neighbourhood of the palace was a cave, filled with a mixture of ash and millet. “Your second task,” said the Padishah, “is to separate the ash from the millet.” The Prince went to the cave and burnt the ant’s wing, whereupon all the ants in the world appeared and set about the work. The task was thus finished that very day, and in the evening the Padishah came and satisfied himself that not a grain had been overlooked.

“One task remains to be done,” said the Padishah, “and then I will take you to my daughter.” Calling a female slave to him, the King split her head open and said to the youth: “Thus shall your own head be split if you cannot restore her to life.” The youth left the palace wondering whether the bird’s feather would help him. He burnt one, and straightway the little bird appeared and awaited his commands. With a heavy heart the Prince related the difficult task that had been set before him. Now the bird belonged to the Peris, and flying up in the air out of sight it soon reappeared with a jug of water. “Here,” said the bird, “this is some water of Paradise which will restore the dead to life.” Taking it to the palace the Prince sprinkled some over the corpse, and the maiden arose immediately as though just awakened from sleep.

The Princess was informed of the youth’s exploits, and she got ready to meet him. The maiden hid in a small marble kiosk, before which was a golden reservoir, and water poured into it from four sides. In the court was a magnificent garden, filled with trees, flowers, and singing-birds. When the Prince saw all of this, it seemed as though he were at the gates of Paradise. 

Suddenly the door of the kiosk opened, and the garden was wrapped in light. The Princess now appeared in all her radiant beauty. She approached the Prince to address him, but no sooner did she look at him than she fainted. She was carried to the kiosk and when she came to she said: “Oh, Prince, you are the son of Shah Suleiman, and you can help me. In the garden of the Reh-Dew a pomegranate branch sings; if you will bring it to me I am yours forever!”

The youth went far away to fulfil the Princess’s quest. For a month he wandered. “Oh, Allah, Creator of all things,” he prayed,” show me the right way.” Presently he reached the foot of a mountain. There he heard a terrible noise, as though the Judgment Day had come; the rocks and mountains trembled, and an evil darkness fell. As the youth bravely went toward the noise, it increased and became even more terrifying, all the while he was enveloped in a whirlwind of dust and smoke. He could not tell whether he was on the right road, but he knew that a six months’ journey should bring him to the garden of the Reh-Dew and that the awful noise was created by the talismans of the Dew.

Continuing on his way, a little garden came into view. On the gate were the shrieking talismans and also a guard. The Prince went to him and told him what he wanted. “Why were you not terrified by the great noise?” asked the astonished guard. “All the talismans were on alert because of you; they even scared me.” The Prince asked about the pomegranate branch. “It is hard to get,” said the guard gravely; “but if you aren’t a coward you might succeed. At the end of a three months’ journey you will arrive at another place similar to this, with other talismans; there you will find another garden, the guard of which is my mother. But do not go near her; wait until she comes to you. Give her my greeting, but do not tell her your business until she questions you.” 

The youth now took the road pointed out to him, and after going for three months he heard an awful sound that seemed impossible to describe. This was the large garden of the Reh-Dew, and the noise came from his talismans. The youth hid himself behind a rock, and saw a human form which was that of an old woman about ninety years old. Her hair was snow-white, her eyelids red, her eyebrows like two arrows, her eyes gleamed fire, her fingernails were two yards long; and she leaned on a staff as she sniffed the air. She was the guardian of the garden. Coming up to the youth, she demanded to know what he was doing there. The Prince gave her a greeting from her son. “The little jerk!” she wheezed; “So you have met him, eh? Did my miserable son think I should have mercy on you that he sent you to me? I’ll soon end you.” So saying she seized the youth and shook him fiercely.

The Prince didn’t know what had happened; he saw only that he was on the back of something that had neither eyes nor ears, and was shrivelled up like a toad. This creature was running off with him, taking gigantic strides and springing over seas at a single bound. Suddenly the hideous thing set him down, and said: “Whatever you hear, whatever you see, be careful not to speak of it, or you are lost!” In a moment it was gone.

As in a dream the Prince now saw an endless garden, with streams and waterfalls, and trees, flowers, and fruit. All around was the sound of song birds as though the air itself were song. Looking around, the youth entered the garden, and heard a heartbreaking sound of weeping. Remembering the pomegranate branch he began to look for it. In the middle of the garden was a small conservatory, and in it hung a number of pomegranates. He plucked a branch, and at once a fearful cry was heard: “A mortal is killing us!” Seized with dread, the youth fled from the garden.

“Quick! Run!” shouted the nameless thing waiting at the gate. He jumped on its back, and with one bound he was on the other side of the sea. Now for the first time the youth looked at the pomegranate branch. He saw there were fifty pomegranates, each of which sang a different song, as though all the music of the world were brought together there. Next he met the old woman who was ninety years old.

“Take good care of the pomegranate branch,” said the old woman; “never let it out of your sight. If you can listen to it throughout your wedding day the pomegranates will love you; you need fear nothing, for they will protect you in any trouble.”

Taking leave of the mother, the Prince went to her son, who told him to listen to the old woman’s advice. Then the youth made his way to the Princess.

The maiden awaited him anxiously, for she loved the Prince so fondly that her days were filled with fear on his behalf, lest any misfortune befall him. The maiden hurried to meet the Prince, and the pomegranate branch chanted the union of their two hearts in such exquisite strains that they seemed to be lifted up from this earth to the Paradise of Allah. Their wedding lasted forty days and forty nights, and all the time they listened to the singing of the pomegranates. When the feast ended the Prince said: “Like yourself, I have a father and mother. We have already celebrated our marriage here; we will now go to my parents and celebrate it there also.” Accordingly they set out on the following day.

When they arrived, the youth went to the Padishah and reported that he had succeeded in bringing the Princess with him. The King praised him for his bravery and skill, and gave him a valuable present. Then he made preparations for the Princess’s marriage to the fake Shahzada. When the maiden saw that it was intended to marry her to the fake Prince, she struck him in the face. He ran to the Padishah to complain, and the monarch, suspecting there was more than meets the eye, went to the maiden and begged her to explain such conduct.

The Princess implored the Padishah not to allow the marriage to take place until the farmer’s son had been put to death. So the King ordered the youth to be brought before him, and he was beheaded in his presence. Immediately the Princess took Paradise water, sprinkled the body of the youth, and at once he arose.

“Now,” said the Princess, “you have died and risen again; so you are released from your oath, and can tell all that has befallen you.” On this the youth related how, after leaving his mother, he met with the farmer’s son. He spoke of the incident at the well, and of everything connected with his perilous quest for the Princess. He also established his identity by showing the amulet he had received from his mother.

Being convinced that the youth was truly his son, the Padishah embraced and kissed him repeatedly. The impostor was executed, and the Prince’s mother was brought to the palace in time for the wedding of her son with the Princess.

The End

Source: ⁠⁠Forty-four Turkish fairy tales by Ignácz Kúnos⁠

The old man’s parrot

Ever the prankster, just before he died, the man trained his parrot to say phrases like, “help me, I’ve turned into a parrot” and “don’t tell anyone about the gold”.

What happened next?

A talking cat challenges the Easter bunny for control of the holiday

Thinking back about that brief period where #movies that had a single scene where the animals talk during some sort of hallucination would use that scene heavily in the trailer, I guess to make you think this movie has #TalkingAnimals in it. I guess they stopped doing that after realizing that people who wanted to see talking animals would go see it and be disappointed, and people who didn't want to see talking animals wouldn't see it at all.

Same thing for movies that have brief moments of #animation for like, a credit sequence or a hallucination.

Very specifically, I am thinking of the movie #KangarooJack, which I was very disappointed was only about stoners, and not a stoner film about a rapping kangaroo.

#SnowDogs #wasntVery #furry

Bello Bear Ep. 9: Pop, Lock, and Rickroll – The one where Bello gets Rickrolled by history. Watch the video version here… https://youtube.com/shorts/p11bCZGDlMs

#rickroll #rickastley #bellylaughs #webcomic #comicstrip #funnycomics #talkinganimals #indiecomics #memelife #snackroyalty