One of us was asleep during this conversation. See if you can figure out which one.
Pocket of Bolts: ...And the oil spill.
POB: That’s what we’ve been talking about the entire time.
Z: But we haven’t talked about that all day.
POB: But it’s all about the Gulf. The oil spill in the Gulf.
Z: The Gulf of Mexico.
POB: Of course the Gulf of Mexico. What are you some kind of racist?
Z: Just making sure you were clear.
POB: I’m clear about tacos and burritos and--...If only someone would figure out what drinks they were serving at the conference and then everyone could just put them in a blender.
Z: What conference?
POB: It’s just a general rule for conferences.
Z: What is?
POB: Everyone says, this paper would be so much more interesting if we weren’t drunk.
Z: No one EVER says that at conferences.
Z: What happens after the conference?
POB: The giraffe goes home.
Z: Where does he go home to?
POB: Bluh bluh Park.
Z: Wicker Park?
POB: No-—Lincoln Park. He’s not a hipster giraffe with big sunglasses and short skirts.
Z: Clearly not. Was the giraffe at the conference?
POB: Let me tell you about the conference.
Z: Please do.
POB: There was an explosion of creative energy, and someone put it in their paper. Bluh bluh bluh bluh.
(For fun I have included a photo I took of a non-hipster giraffe that lives in Lincoln Park.)