A Day to Remember
I originally wrote this for the Pulse 98.4 Radio Comedy Monologue Competition. I didn’t win.
I’ll never forget where I was the day my dad turned into an elephant. But then again lots of people remember where they were that day: September 11th 2001, which maybe makes it a bit less special.
Needless to say, Dad turning into an elephant was a major hassle. Not the kind of hassle that’s a hassle for a minute or two but passes quickly, but the kind of hassle that hangs around for what seems like forever and makes you realise “oh right, my biological father has now transformed into an elephant and it’s my problem now”.
You can’t blame the man of course, although obviously that’s all I’ve done non-stop ever since. But as the old saying goes, ‘lie down with dogs and you get fleas and in some cases transform into an elephant’.
Mum took it the hardest, of course. Oh god did she have a proper cry over it. Big, sobby wet tears like you’d imagine a giant crying. The kind of tears that could keep a family washed and watered for a week. We tried to reason with her, “he’s not actually dead, you know, and technically, he’s still a mammal.” We’ve always been good at that, finding the silver lining in a cloud. A massive five thousand kilogram cloud.
But she had a point — Dad became impossible to live with, let alone take anywhere. Did you know that elephants have to consume over two hundred pounds of food per day? You try finding two hundred pounds of light vegetation ‘round our estate! And they certainly don’t sell it in the frozen food aisle of Tesco!
With a few adjustments, we’ve made living with Dad bearable. He loves watching those wildlife shows on TV, so that’s something we can all enjoy. Except for the ones with the lions, of course. Last week, we watched the remake of that Lion King film, and he trumpeted his trunk so loud that the police came round. He stamped them to death, of course, but it’s just the kind of aggro we can live without.
It’s funny, really. I can still remember Dad’s last words on that day, September 11th 2001. He turned to me, looked me dead in the eye, and said: “Sam, I really really really hope I don’t turn into an elephant”. At the time, it seemed like a weird thing to say, but now it feels like those words have taken on a special meaning. So I’ve had them crocheted on a tea towel and hung above the mantle.
If I could go back and do things differently, would I? Not for a second. The fact is, Dad’s an elephant now. Sure, it’s an expensive hassle that’s tearing my family apart. But sometimes we let other parents pay money to have their children ride around his back shouting “I’m the jungle king!”. And I think that’s what he would have wanted.
