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Description
  "Dem elefunts... ah... der meatflesh est bon, mais de hide est strong, ah... fak... listen moi little Squeaker... you must cut it like dis... dis here... ah, ye... like dat".

  *incomprehensible screeching*

  "Yer just like ye mum, ah... she was a screecher too".

Evolution has a tendency to produce similar forms from different lineages over time (tyrannosaurs and terror birds, gorgonopsids and saber-toothed cats, etc). Atop the seasonal algae plains of an unnamed alien world, we find that the basic proboscidean form has been replicated in a completely unrelated animal. The "trunk" is in fact a modified radula lined with grinding teeth, the skin is smooth and rubbery like a whale's to resist the icy rain, hail, and wind of its native land, and there are no visible eyes (unless you count numerous tiny photoreceptors) because the inhabitable portion of that world is concentrated near the poles where it's pitch-black most of the year and everyone lives in utter darkness and eats eachother alive and talks in shitty French.

Maybe someday, my French bois' story shall be published and shared with the world. Unfortunately, the industries distributing various forms of art/entertainment media are run by business people, not artists, and apparently phallic space monkeys doing phallic space monkey things aren't commercially viable or something.

  fak dem

Description
  "Dem elefunts... ah... der meatflesh est bon, mais de hide est strong, ah... fak... listen moi little Squeaker... you must cut it like dis... dis here... ah, ye... like dat".

  *incomprehensible screeching*

  "Yer just like ye mum, ah... she was a screecher too".

Evolution has a tendency to produce similar forms from different lineages over time (tyrannosaurs and terror birds, gorgonopsids and saber-toothed cats, etc). Atop the seasonal algae plains of an unnamed alien world, we find that the basic proboscidean form has been replicated in a completely unrelated animal. The "trunk" is in fact a modified radula lined with grinding teeth, the skin is smooth and rubbery like a whale's to resist the icy rain, hail, and wind of its native land, and there are no visible eyes (unless you count numerous tiny photoreceptors) because the inhabitable portion of that world is concentrated near the poles where it's pitch-black most of the year and everyone lives in utter darkness and eats eachother alive and talks in shitty French.

Maybe someday, my French bois' story shall be published and shared with the world. Unfortunately, the industries distributing various forms of art/entertainment media are run by business people, not artists, and apparently phallic space monkeys doing phallic space monkey things aren't commercially viable or something.

  fak dem