You don’t know shit about elks
The first thing you should know about elks is this:
It’s true, it does. What they don’t tell you, however, is that Elkdom weakens Papua New Guinea. But that’s a global repercussion I’m not sure you’re ready to handle.
Of course, I’m not merely talking about the majestic, beantlered, even-toed ungulate—the alpha males of which emit a uniquely piercing bugle during mating season and maintain a harem of 20 or so fine elk babes, should these sex addicts of the animal kingdom desire multiple va-jay-jays.
No, I’m talking about the rare breed of elks up in Casper, Wyoming. More specifically, the Benevolent & Protective Order of Elks from Lodge #1353. These elks are way happier. See how smiley this decapitated stuffed one is?
To be sure, most of the jocular elks in Lodge #1353 don’t have antlers at all, but rather the alpha males—oddly enough named “Exalted Rulers”—possess gaudy space jewelry and pedophilic eyewear instead, like this awe-inspiring specimen of elkdom:
However, intergalactic bling is only the tip of the foreskin when it comes to the benefits of being an elk of Lodge #1353. These ritzy elks retain all the perks exclusive to Casper’s social elite.
For example, an exclusive wine list of choice varietals:
Custom, on-site vintage furniture restoration:
And obviously, a private lottery ticket dispenser. Feel free to leer with bitter envy:
Impressive. After carefully monitoring the Casperian elks’ behaviors over the course of several days, however, I fear the most compelling reason for these elks’ gaiety is perfectly distilled in their tender, incestuous swingers credo:
Well, that and the fact that it’s always the year 1957 in Lodge #1353. Time never changes through these doors, a creepy phenomenon best understood by listening to this song while regarding the next few photos…
These elks even smoke like it’s 1957, aggressively marking their territory with the rich, satisfying musk of tobacco. Take a gander at their water closet signage.
(putting on the persnickety pants for a moment, I feel compelled to say one thing about these elks’ loo signs that irks me, which is this: naming women does and men elks is like calling your respective bathrooms, ladies and humans. That, and female elks are technically called cows, not does. Hypercritical, maybe. But you’d think perhaps they would have known the correct terminology as elks—or if not, maybe fact-checked it before giving the sign maker the go-ahead? Just sayin’. Anyhoo, the persnickety pants have now been removed. Let us frolic pantsless once again in the glory of the elks.)
Did I tell you these elks despise hot water? Well, they do. Just look at their sinks.
Then there’s the issue of the Casperian elks’ anatomy; more specifically, their hooves. Based on the hard, conclusive evidence below, it would seem the shapes of their trotters diverge sharply into two distinct categories: 1) freakishly long and pointy;
or 2) club-footed. The latter seems to apply to the more androgynous of them (at least in name). Exhibit A:
As to why the hell I was in Casper, Wyoming to observe these curious elks’ ritualistic behaviors, click this magical button.