Mr. Riverhorse

The photographer hiked along the hill on the riverbank, oblivious to his surroundings. Perhaps if he had been a bit more careful he could’ve avoided the unstable patch of ground which gave way under his feet. He slid several feet down the hillside until cooming right up on the riverbank itself. His camera, unprotected around his neck, banged a rock just hard enough to evoke true concern as he slid. It was almost as if he could hear the small tinkling of glass on the inside of the lense. The funny thing was he could of swore he heard something else as well. He definitely heard a grunt or a snort. Or he thought he did. Honestly, it didn’t matter. The major concern was making sure his camera was not rendered entirely useless.

His leg was caught under a root from where he fell down the hill. His camera was likely destroyed and he was a good mile or two from his mates downriver. It was already going to be a pain to get his busted ankle back up the hill. But first, he needed to see if the camera worked.  He removed the lense cap and adjusted the focus. An absolutely gorgeous orange lily sits before him in the sunshine, a prime candidate for the test shot.

*Click*

“Brawwwwwwwhhhhhhheeeeee”

Mr. Riverhorse

This time he heard it. It was too close for comfort. Within a few feet close. He didn’t know what it was as he kept his eye through the finder. He didn’t want to look. The finder began to tremble ever so slightly. The hairs on his neck stood as beads of sweat formed in nearly every single crevice of his frame. Maybe if he didn’t look, it wouldn’t materialize. Maybe whatever it was would just kill him without any hesitation. 

It didn’t though, so he moved the camera from his face. He looked to his left. Nothing. He looked ahead. Nothing. He looked to his right. Oh a big something. A very large something staring him down like he was naught but a small snack. 

Mr. Riverhorse eyed him with curiosity, he nodded in greeting. But the long pig only blinked back. The ole beast snorted, 

“What manners these creatures have? He comes here and disturbs my peace with his racket? They can’t even have the goddamn courtesy to properly greet one another? Surely if I came into your house and acted this way, you’d be throwing a fit! I’m positive you’d shoot me ole boy.”

The photographer sat their dazed. He must’ve have hit his head. This hippo was speaking with a weird accent. He’s not sure what scared him the most - the hippopotamus only a few feet away, the fact that he could’ve sworn the hippo was talking, or that he was talking so much there was an accent? He either was going through some weird fear filled rabbit hole or had hit his head way too hard. The man opened his mouth as if to talk and realized it was futile. The hippo continued his inquisitive looks, as if sizing him for a meal. It nodded at him and wiggled its ears. Without further ado and really unsure why - the man followed suit. He nodded and wiggled his ears, a talent he’d found useless up until this point in life. He sat there under the stare of the enormous animal in the water waiting the sweet release of death by mauling.

It didn’t come. The hippo again wiggled his ears and snorted. The man followed suit.

“Now that’s more like it. I guess some of your manners weren’t wiped away by evolution. To be fair sir, long pig isn’t to my liking nowadays. I’d much rather have a juicy gazelle” Mr. Riverhorse chuckled to himself. The man stared at him dumbfounded. He was still unsure if this was all in his head or if he perhaps was already dead. Maybe this was his brain’s way of disguising the hippo tearing him limb from limb.

“Well good day young ape. I bid you farewell, be more careful in these parts. Not so many of my neighbors will be as accommodating as I. Away with you now, and stick to the path. Give my regards to your parents, they did something right.” With that the Mr. Riverhorse turned and swam downstream; releasing a few of his patented big bubble farts to fertilize and feed the riverbed.

Without further ado, the small photographer freed his ankle, grabbed a branch above, counted his blessings, and went off to find his companions. Hopefully before the hippopotamus swimming downriver towards them did.