There’s an elephant in the room.
He moved in a while ago and I didn’t say a thing.
I didn’t know much about living with elephants back then but I didn’t complain.
Elephants need a safe place to live (I told myself) and I was sure that we would get along.
Although I had been warned about the perils of living with elephants, I was certain that we would become great friends.
So I decided to be a guardian and a protector for the elephant.
I fed, washed and cleaned up after the elephant and made sure that he was going to grow up to be comfortable, healthy and strong.
After a short while, however, I came to realize that he was beginning to look a bit too big for my little room.
His behaviour was getting a bit testy too!
He just lumbered about the place, knocking things over and making a hell of a racket.
Now he spends most of his time ranting and complaining about this home that I have made for him.
He said that my place is far too small and that I need to build a much bigger room so that he and his friends can come over and play.
Er, ... I think he said play, although I could have sworn it sounded a bit like ... "pray".
O well, that’s elephants for you!